Transcending Torchwood
by Galadriel1010
Summary: Torchwood Big Bang Fic. Jack/Ianto, David/Steven. "Jack and Ianto always knew that Torchwood would be what ripped them apart. They never expected it to give them a second chance and pull them together again."
1. Prologue

**11.04.11**  
>Jack leaned back in his chair and smiled up at Ianto as he entered. The conference call system was starting up, and the other offices were coming online to join them, giving them a couple of minutes to themselves before it got going. "Ten says Archie doesn't make it again," he offered.<p>

"I'm not taking that." Ianto scowled and set out the reports in front of them. "We really need him here for this."

"We'll persuade him to retire when we overhaul Scotland," Jack promised. "He won't leave Glasgow; we're probably going to need an office in Edinburgh instead, so we can wrap it all up as modernisation, golden handshake, slide him down the ladder and give him a team to look after him." He picked up the reports and shuffled them. "You could go up there and get the place set up. After all, you've been here in Cardiff for nearly two years now."

"He jokes about it, but he pouts like a kicked puppy when I do leave him," Ianto scoffed. Their counterpart in Australia had come online at the wrong moment, and looked worried. "Don't worry Andrew, I'm not going anywhere. We were discussing the prospect of an Edinburgh office."

"Are you going to be tabling the motion or presenting us with the finished product?" The strident twang of the director of the Torchwood Research Centre, located in the Australian Red Centre, cut through the morning calm. He had only been working there for a year, and was one of the first hires after Torchwood became public knowledge.

Ianto scribbled something on his notepad and looked up again. "I'm going to take a research team up there this week to establish a temporary base. By the time the conference comes around I hope to have a better idea of the scope and power of the Rift, which will give us a guide as to what we need to prepare for. We'll put together a list of requirements and put out a request for tender."

Whilst he'd been talking, the other Torchwood offices had come online, and were now looking curious, so Ianto had to go over it all again. Jack sat back to watch and add in his opinion when it was asked for. He was so proud of the things Ianto had achieved and the way he'd grown into himself. Less than a year after they married, Torchwood had come out into the open, and at the age of twenty six he had been appointed the head of the whole organisation. He now ran it from an office in their newly completed Cardiff base and was streamlining the organisation for the twenty-first century.

Ianto finished summarising the rise in activity of the Edinburgh Rift, and moved on to the plans for coping with it if it opened like the Cardiff Rift had. "In case of a fully functioning Rift developing in Edinburgh, we're going to need a full-time team located there to be able to respond immediately. Captain Harkness and I will travel up there this week with some of the joint research team from Cardiff and London to establish a Hub and begin forming a permanent team. We hope to be able to establish the current spread of the Rift and predict the potential scope. Of course, we have no data for what happens when a Rift opens, but contemporary accounts from Cardiff suggest that the occurrence of Rift-related incidents increases dramatically initially, before subsiding. It would be nice if we could install a Rift manipulator there to moderate the impact of the initial opening, but I am reliably informed that that isn't possible.

"As a result, we're also going to develop evacuation procedures for the city, and set about training the local emergency services to deal with it in case it happens." He closed the file and took his glasses off. "Any questions, suggestions or sarcastic comments?"

"If you two needed a holiday, why didn't you decide that the Bermuda Rift was opening?" Yawende asked from South Africa.

Jack grinned and answered before Ianto could. "We're going to go out and check on it once this is done with. Unless you want to go and check on it before then?"

"Give me another few team members and maybe I'll manage it." She grinned back at them and the discussion moved on to recruitment and team numbers across the branches.

**16.04.11**  
>Jack downed the last of a mug of coffee and leaned on the back of Ianto's chair. "Okay, let's go over it again."<p>

"Activity levels have been over the fifty mark for an hour, coming up to two, and are rising consistently." Di Green tapped on the keyboard and brought up a chart instead of the raw data. "The program predicts a peak this evening."

"Okay." Jack squeezed Ianto's shoulders. "Can you draw up a predicted radius, whilst Ianto works out an evacuation procedure? I'll go and talk to UNIT."

He turned away, back towards his own desk, and Ianto watched him go. The air was charged as if with static electricity, like the hours before a storm, and it was wearing on Jack most of all. They were waiting for the plunge, but had too much to do before they got there.

Evacuating a whole city was a logistical impossibility, but the rising Rift activity levels left them with no choice. There was no knowing what damage a spontaneous rip would do, or where the other end of the Rift would open up. He had too many unknowns, not enough time, and not enough flexibility.

"Activity levels just hit sixty," Di called across. "The focus is in the south of the city, between Newington and Morningside. I recommend evacuation of a three-mile radius."

"Noted." He pulled the map across and studied it. "Let's evacuate to Herriot-Watt and the airport." She scowled and he laughed. "You take the airport, I'll talk to the university."

"I hate students," she grumbled. "So glad we don't have to deal with them. Imagine trying to evacuate the university... on second thought, I'd rather not."

**17.04.11**  
>Ianto wiped sweat out of his eyes and glared at the tablet in his hand. The coordinates were going wild, as they had been all night and for a good portion of the afternoon, and he couldn't get a fix on where the next spike was going to be. Off to his left another explosion lit the night sky, and someone behind him swore. "That's three so far," Freda said. "We can't keep up with this, boss."<p>

"I know, but we have to try. UNIT will be here soon." He turned in a circle and the scanner finally got a fix. "Got it!"

He didn't know Edinburgh well enough to use short-cuts, so he followed the route that the scanner had picked out for him, rucksack of tools bashing against his back and probably leaving a bruise. His team were scientists, not field agents, so he left them behind to catch up and concentrated on getting to the spike as soon as he could. They would get there, but he needed to secure the area. A battlefield was dropping on them, and they never knew whether a soldier or a bomb was going to come through next. He rounded the last corner and started pulling his rucksack off with one hand whilst he activated his comms. with the other hand. "Di," he hailed the operation coordinator. "I have a Rift Flare on Newbattle Terrace but no sign of anything come through. Can you give me a more specific location?"

"Only if you can give me one. Which end of Newbattle Terrace?"

Ianto sighed and crouched to open his rucksack. "The one with a Rift Flare."

She grunted at him and went silent for a moment before she returned with a location. "The Rift was active at twenty five feet above street level. Look up."

"That's not what I wanted to hear." He stepped back and looked up. The line of the house roofs was visible as a space of darkness without stars, but he couldn't see any sign of anything that had come through. "Okay, we're evacuating." He switched to the open channel on his comm. and grabbed his things up again, backing away quickly. "I need a cordon around Newbattle Street. Set up a radius for an explosion, keep alert for a combatant."

"Do you need backup?" Jack asked, voice crackling over the comms.

"Where are you?" He turned to his team and gestured them to positions at the end of the street. "Are you close enough?"

"Far side of town," Jack conceded. "If you need us, we'll come."

"No time," he decided. Silence blanketed the street and he looked up again, straining to see any sign of the results of the Rift flare. A glimmer of light on the rooftop caught his eye, and a moment later he was engulfed in light, heat, noise, dust and pain and the world went black.


	2. Chapter 1

**27.11.61**  
>Pain cascades across every nerve ending, bright and hot. He tries to scream, convulsing with the agony, but even the tiniest movement sends waves of white-hot pain shooting through him. He's drowning in the noise and light and pain, all awareness of what's around him subsumed.<p>

A fog starts seeping through him at last, pushing back the fire and tumultuous silence. Someone is with him, and he can't even struggle against them. There are voices too loud, too close, too harsh, and he surrenders to the summoning darkness that rushes towards him.

~~~~~

When he returns to consciousness, reluctantly and as slowly as he can, he finds himself surrounded by the cool white, gentle noises and clinical smells of a hospital. He flexes his fingers on the coverlet experimentally and finds them stiff and unresponsive. A bone-deep ache weighs heavily on him and fills him with lethargy.

The walls and linen are lit by soft sunlight that filters through pale curtains across a wide window. Across from the end of the bed is a simple cabinet, and next to it is a comfortable-looking visitor's chair. Neither look to have been used recently.

Struggling to sit up proves too much, but as he falls back against the pillows a nurse comes to his rescue and helps him to lie down again comfortable. "Easy," he chastises. "You've been badly hurt. Try not to move." Once he's safe and breathing evenly again, the nurse fetches a cup of ice chips and feeds them to him slowly.

The ice chips help and he's soon able to swallow without pain and ask, "Where am I?"

"You're at Torchwood," the nurse tells him, whilst he uses a towel to wipe stray droplets from his cheek. "Someone will explain everything when you're stronger, but you're safe."

He smiles tightly in response to that; he'd not been in any doubt that he was safe. The remnants of the painkilling drugs that had knocked him out and saved him are still fogging his mind, leaving everything just beyond the cusp of understanding. He allows them to pull him under again and drifts away whilst the nurse is still talking.

**28.11.61**  
>The next time he wakes, it's dark and still. Only a hint of silvery moonlight slips through the slim gap between the curtains and the wall, and the lights on the equipment are dimmed and suffuse the room in a lighter darkness.<p>

He sits up whilst there's no one there to tell him not to and swings around until his bare feet touch a worn rug. No alarms scream at him, so he gets to his feet to explore the room. The dresser contains a few sets of formless, impersonal pyjamas like the ones he's wearing, and, in the bottom drawer, a pair of disposable slippers wrapped in plastic. Lacking any alternatives, he unwraps the slippers and pulls them on, and goes in search of answers, food and coffee.

The slippers flap against the tiled floor of the corridor, echoing behind him however hard he tries to walk quietly. He passes empty rooms as well as occupied ones. Each room is the same, varying only in the medical equipment tending to the residents, and the presence of the occasional protective visitor.

Rounding the corner brings him to a nurses' station at the intersection of two corridors. Three nurses are seated at the desk, cradling mugs, and the older of the three slides into action as soon as she sees him to guide him back to his room. "You shouldn't be out of bed, and certainly not at this time of night. Is there something you need?"

"I need to know what's going on." He holds his ground and looks around the corridors. "The nurse said that this is Torchwood, but I don't recognise it." Her eyes narrows so he shakes her off fully and carries on the way he had been going. "I'm Captain Jack Harkness, and I need to speak to the director."

~~~~~

The nurse shows him into a smart, tidy office and sits him down in the seat in front of the desk. The plaque on the door had indicated that this was the office of Diana Holbourn, an Institute medical director with a string of qualifications and an apartment off her office so that she was available night and day. She emerges a minute or two after he arrives, with dark smudges under her eyes and auburn hair shot with silver pulled back into a messy pony tail. Her handshake is gentle, and she looks him over closely before she releases him to sit down again. He leans forwards in his chair and glares at her. "If I'm at Torchwood, why will no one tell me anything? You all clearly know who I am!"

"Captain... look." She sighs and pulls her chair around the desk. "You were taken by the Rift, as you know. It brought you back safely - the first person to survive it, actually - but fifty years later."

He sits back and stares at her. Ten, even twenty years he could have coped with - there was a chance that Ianto and Alice could be alive still, but fifty years... "I missed them. My family, I mean," he explains when she tilts her head. "They'll be gone."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Captain," she tells him. "Temporal displacement is never easy to deal with, especially when it's so close to your own time."

"Yeah." He sighs and forces himself to focus on her again.. "There might be some left but... I'm not ready."

"I understand." She leans forwards with her elbows on the desk. "When you are ready, Torchwood will be here, and you'll find them."

He rips into a sandwich and avoids her close scrutiny. The clock on the wall ticks reassuringly and lulls him into calm, away from having to think about what he's left so far behind. "The Rift opens onto a battlefield," he says when the quiet becomes too deep. It draws him into the past, into pain he doesn't want to but needs to talk about. "It's desolate, razed by fire and shrapnel. Nothing can survive there."

"No one else has," she confirms. "You barely did, and yet here you are. There's not a mark on you..." He refuses to even look at her, but he is aware of her settling back into her seat with a resigned sigh. "The Director will be here to talk to you very soon, and then you should sleep. In the morning a counsellor will be in the building, if that would help you. You seem pretty independent, though."

"Talking has never helped. Not with just anyone." He closes his eyes and forces back the loss. "Too many years."

The office door opens behind him, but he ignores it for a moment to pull himself together again. Torchwood is once more all he has, and his future hangs on the trust of the current director.

Diane stands from her chair and rounds the desk to stand next to him and rest a hand on his shoulder. Silent communication passes above him, culminating in Diane squeezing his shoulder and stepping back. "I'll leave you to it then, sir," she says with a warning bite to her tone. "Captain, my door is always open if you need anything. Drop by, I'll share my cake with you."

He smiles at her and turns to greet the director. All the breath leaves his lungs in an instant and he clings to the chair to stay upright. "Ianto?"

"Welcome back to Torchwood." Ianto closes the door and leans back against it with his hands in his pockets. Even in the small hours of the morning he is immaculately turned out, cool and unflustered and the exact opposite of Jack in that moment. "I didn't have you declared dead, I'm sure you'll be pleased to hear. And of course there is always space for you in Torchwood."

"I..." He stared up at Ianto and, once he was sure his legs wouldn't give way, stood up to face him. "This isn't how this conversation is supposed to go."

"Then how is it supposed to go?"

Ianto is implacable, and Jack hesitates with his hand halfway to touching him. "I thought you died," he whispers. He brushes his fingertips against Ianto's cheek and freezes when Ianto immediately recoils. "I thought you were dead until just this moment. And it's been fifty years?" He shakes his head and drops his hand. "And yet, you've barely aged. That... that's not possible."

"I have aged." Ianto turns his face away. "I don't look it, but I feel it."

Jack sinks back into the chair and laces his hands together between his knees. "Fifty years. Did you miss me?"

The clock ticks between them, stretching the seconds into space and pain. Jack closes his eyes and accepts it, but a moment later Ianto's fingers brush his cheek, and when he opens his eyes Ianto is in front of him, hand outstretched and hovering. "Every second," he whispers. "I missed you every second, and now I don't know if I know how to stop."

**20.9.11**  
>Fog wound through Cardiff, clinging to clothes and hair and leaving everything damp and clammy. Barely a breeze stirred the first few fallen leaves that lay in the gutter between puddles and rivulets from the rain that had fallen in the morning. Ianto tightened his grip on his crutch and leaned on it, waving Gwen and Rhys off. "I'll be fine. I can actually walk, when I'm not milking it for the sympathy."<p>

"Not saying you can't, mate, but we couldn't get closer than the back car park." Rhys clapped him on the shoulder when he nodded in weary surrender. "You two sit and natter, I'll bring my charger to your rescue."

"Our hero." Gwen kissed his cheek. "You've got the keys?"

"Yes, I've got the keys. Transport and logistics, that's me. I'm always your man when you want something shifted." He extricated himself from her grasp and walked around the side of the building, still muttering to himself.

Gwen returned to hovering over Ianto and helped him back to the bench by the door, where a little old lady clutched her bag on her lap and glared at them. He ignored both of them and manipulated his injured leg into the most comfortable position, stretched out in front of him and resting on the slightly raised edge of a flower bed.

Although he tried to hide his discomfort, Gwen spotted it and touched his shoulder. "Are you alright, sweet?" She smiled down at him and chucked his chin. "I worry about you being on your own. There's plenty of room if you want to stay with us, and Rhys would love it."

He smiled back and gestured down at his leg. "I think having children underfoot is more than I can manage. I need some space after living in a goldfish bowl for so long."

She looked doubtful. "Are you sure? There won't be anyone there if you get hurt..."

"I'll be able to call if I need help," he pointed out. "And I'm going to have to get used to being on my own."

A bus pulled up in the lay-by in front of them, and the little old lady got up and tottered to the curb to get on it. Gwen immediately took her place and wrapped her arms around herself. She left a space between them, and it filled with bitter silence whilst they waited. Their lives were too different for empathy now, and Ianto had had more than enough sympathy since he woke up in hospital in Edinburgh. Some days - most of them - he wished they'd kept him in the induced coma.

Rhys arrived with the car and he distracted Gwen with loading Ianto's cases into the boot for long enough that Ianto managed to get into the passenger seat and settle his leg without her help. She looked pleased when she noticed, although she clucked at the fact that he'd left her with the back seat. "Doctor's orders," he pointed out. "Rhys will agree with me."

"No way. I'm staying on her good side." Rhys waited until Gwen was strapped in in the back before he he pulled away from the curb under the suspicious gaze of a smoking patient. He filled the journey around to the Bay area and Jack and Ianto's flat with a blow-by-blow account of the repair work that had clogged up the bypass for three months, and the journey passed faster than Ianto expected.

Before he was ready they arrived in front of the converted warehouse he'd lived in for most of the last five years. It had barely changed since he and Jack had rushed out of the door to head to Edinburgh, cramming toast into their mouths because they'd stayed in bed too long and Tybalt had been asleep on Jack's car keys. Something should have changed, but only he had.

He took the lift up to the top floor, grateful that Gwen and Rhys were there to help with his luggage and so that he wasn't alone, and fumbled the key into the lock with shaking hands. He got the door open before either of them could offer to help and was immediately assailed by a very affectionate cat winding around his ankles and apparently determined to trip him.

"Hello Monster." He crouched awkwardly to stroke him and tried to ignore the way Tybalt kept looking past him towards the door. "I hope you missed me as much as I missed you."

Gwen had set the bags she had brought in down by the sofa and came over to help him up again. "Ianto," she sighed. He gave her a dark look that probably didn't cover his distress and she relented. "He's been like Greyfriars Bobby. Always looking out for you coming to fetch him from ours."

"Sorry, Tyb." He made it to the sofa and sat down, and Tybalt immediately leapt into his lap. "I'm home now." The cat looked at the doorway again, and rubbed himself against Ianto's chest. "It's just you and me now, Monster."

**23.01.12**  
>Ianto strolled down the Plass towards the boardwalk and came to a stop by the water tower. He very rarely came down here since they had moved the Hub closer to the centre of Cardiff, but he still visited when he could to eat in their favourite restaurant and people watch. It was as familiar as his own apartment, and he knew when something was different. This time something was making his spatial awareness scream, but he could see nothing. He prodded out with his cane, usually unnecessary - finally - but a wise precaution in weather this wet and icy, and smirked when it touched something and the familiar tall, blue police box had suddenly been there all along.<p>

Excitement gripped him with a flash of hope and he stepped closer to knock sharply on the door. He barely breathed whilst he waited for it to open. Long moments later he came face to face with an unfamiliar figure who peered at him through gold-rimmed goggles.

"Hello there." The figure pushed the door open fully and beckoned Ianto into the TARDIS. "What happened to you?"

"Doctor?" He followed him in and closed the door behind himself. "I walked into an explosion."

"That wasn't very clever. Why did you do that?"

"I didn't see it coming." He hung his stick over a railing and leaned back next to it. "Doctor, tell me you've brought Jack home."

"Jack?" The Doctor lifted the goggles to look at him properly. "I haven't seen him since that sea monster in the Bay; that was fun. It's not every day you meet a sea monster who just wants chips. Where is Jack?"

"He was taken." Ianto covered his face self-consciously and swallowed hard. "A Rift opened in Edinburgh, spewing bombs and soldiers over the city. He was one of twenty who didn't come home."

"Oh. I'm sorry." He twisted his hands in front of him and whirled back to the console. "He can look after himself, though."

"I just want him home," he said. The kernel of darkness that always hovered at the back of his mind rose to the surface. "I need to know he has the choice."

He hoped that it would pass without comment, but the Doctor peered at him and came back around the console. "You say that like you think there's somewhere else he'd rather be."

"No!" he insisted, but he wasn't even fooling himself. He touched his face again and tried to hide the gesture by running his hand through his hair. "Things have changed. Me, for starters."

"Ianto... Jack chose to come back. He's stubborn, refuses to change his mind - you know that." He came across the room and caught Ianto's hand before he could cover his face again. "Does it bother you?"

"It's not knowing," he admitted, answering a different question rather than facing the Doctor's. "No matter how long it took, I would wait for Jack. But he will always be... Maybe he's better off without me."

"He won't be." He smiled at Ianto and pointed at him. "You just needed someone to say it."

"I think I did." His hand dropped to his side and he smiled back at last. "Now, can we go and find him? You once said that you always know where Jack is."

The Doctor froze and started flicking switches slowly. "It's more complicated than that."

"Can you find him?"

He sighed and leaned forwards on the console. "It's a big universe, Ianto. If I could find where the Rift opens, follow it to its opening, I could find him from there but..." He turned and saw Ianto's expression. "I'm sorry. He's a fixed point, but that means hat there's billions of traces of him across time and space, everywhere. Even if we searched all of your life, we may still never find the right one."

Ianto closed his eyes and leaned on the console. The universe span around him, and he felt it stretch out, impossibly vast. "I'll get him back one day," he said quietly. "I'll find him."

"You will. But for now... One adventure? You need to get away from Cardiff, don't you?" He waited for Ianto to come to a decision and nod his consent, then wrenched a handle that launched them into the vortex with a grinding scream.

**24.01.12**

Ianto inhaled deeply, relishing the feeling of his lungs inflating fully and being able to see clearly once more. After having resigned himself to being prematurely old, the sensation of youth and health flooding through him was like walking on air. They had landed in the street outside the Hub, and the TARDIS was taking up a disabled parking space.

"Cardiff two thousand and twelve. Home sweet home." The Doctor rubbed his hands together and looked past Ianto. "Isn't that your Gwen?"

He turned and grimaced when he spotted Gwen hurrying towards him from the Torchwood Hub, but, rather than telling him off like the worried parent she so often was, she slowed to a stop and covered her mouth. "Ianto?" She peered at him and then glared at the Doctor. "When did you kidnap him from?"

"Just yesterday morning... I think. What date is it?" He wrenched his wrist around into a position that must have been painful and peered at the complicated device he'd bought at a market on their travels. "Yep, yesterday."

"It wasn't kidnap either." Ianto closed the gap between them and hugged Gwen tightly. "I borrowed the Doctor for an adventure."

"I was so worried," she said, burying her face against his chest. "When you didn't show up for work I went to your flat. Tybalt isn't speaking to you."

The Doctor started backing away towards the TARDIS. "It was good to see you Ianto. If you need anything..."

Gwen whirled on his and stabbed one finger at him without releasing Ianto. "You aren't going anywhere. You need to find Jack and bring him home."

"Gwen..." Ianto tried.

She cut across him fiercely and put herself between him and the Doctor as if protecting him. "No, he can find him. He has a time machine, he can go forwards and find out where he was and then back and get him."

The Doctor waved the idea away. "I can't cross my own timeline like that. Time travel movies have a lot to answer for."

Gwen looked like she was about to launch at him, but Ianto held her back and told her, "We tried."

That took the wind out of her sails and she turned back to him; her eyes glistened with tears she was refusing to shed. "There has to be a way..."

"All we can do is wait." He hugged her close again and closed his eyes against the Doctor's approach. "Will you keep half an eye on Edinburgh, Doctor?"

"I'll give it a whole eye," he promised. When Ianto smiled weakly he started fumbling through his pockets. After pulling out lengths of string, a harmonica, a toy dog and more spoons than Ianto could count, he finally found what he was looking for and held an ancient, battered mobile phone out to Ianto. "I've modified it a bit. It will never lose signal or run out of battery, but it'll only call me... Sorry." He took Ianto's hand and wrapped it around the phone. "You need me, you call."

Ianto saluted him with the phone. "Thank you, Doctor. I had fun."

He smiled back and tilted his head like a bird. "People always do. Take care, Mrs Cooper, and take care of Ianto."

They watched the TARDIS disappear before they turned back to return to Torchwood. Gwen looped her arm through Ianto's and leaned on him. "So... Magic healing? Want to tell me about it?"

He glanced up at the leaden sky and smiled. "Well, there was a nanotech hospital and a plot to spy on the royal family..."

**17.12.18**  
>The heavy curtains blocked out most of the light from the too-bright afternoon sun, save for a chink where they curved over the radiator that let a tiny sliver of light in to play over the wall whenever a breeze stirred them. Ianto watched the light appear and disappear over and over again, his mind tumbling between it and the irregular splash of water on porcelain in the bathroom. Soft footsteps on the wooden floor of the hall added to the cacophony and he clung tighter to the duvet, drawing it over his face as a shield.<p>

Across the room the door opened slowly with a creak, and light from the hall draped across the bed. He huddled deeper into the covers, turning away from the invader and choked back the hysterical noise that tried to escape.

"Uncle Ianto?" The figure resolved itself into Jack's grandson, swinging a rucksack absently from one hand and peering through the gloom at him. "Are you alright? You weren't at the station, and then when I got here the door was unlocked... Do you need me to call someone?"

He resisted the urge to curl up even tighter and bawl, and instead unfurled himself from his cocoon, wiping one hand across his face roughly. "Fuck," he muttered. Once he was untangled he turned back to Steven and raised his voice. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to pick you up. I should..." He stopped and ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry. It's a bad day."

"I can call someone," Steven suggested again. "Rhiannon, or someone from work. I could call Gwen?"

"No... no, she's..." He choked again and buried his face in his hands. "She died. Gwen died yesterday. I'm the last..."

Steven made a distressed noise, too high compared to his normal speaking voice, and crossed the room in two strides. Ianto blinked up at him through red-rimmed eyes and let Steven hug him, still wrapped in the duvet. "I'm sorry." He'd grown tall and lanky over the last two years, but since Ianto last saw him he'd filled out with muscle, and it was so close to being back in Jack's arms that the ache of Ianto's loneliness intensified even as he embraced the comfort. "What happened?"

"She was poisoned," he whispered. "Some stupid alien hedgehog poisoned her, and I couldn't save her. I should have known what it was, should have done something."

"Done what?" Steven asked. "I know you like to think that you know everything, but you can't save everyone. You do everything you can; no one could ever doubt that. But you're still human and sometimes... sometimes everything we have isn't enough. It is not your fault."

"It's always the same." He pulled away and leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands. "Jack would have known what to do. And now I have to tell him that I failed her... and him."

"Jack will not think that you failed him. He will feel terrible that he isn't here for you, but he will be so proud of you." Steven patted his shoulder awkwardly and got up from the bed. "I'll put the kettle on, make you a cup of tea."

He nodded shakily and curled his fingers into the blue cotton he still clutched in his hands. Steven left the room and his place on the bed was taken by Tybalt, who was completely unconcerned by Ianto's state and fell asleep in the warm space he'd left. Ianto got to his feet and hung the shirt back up in the wardrobe. It was creased now and really needed ironing again, but that would wait. It wasn't like Jack would need it any time soon.

The drip-drip of the tap had wormed its way through his oblivion and become a constant irritation, so he stopped off in the bathroom to splash cold water on his face and turn the tap off fully. His eyes were bloodshot and framed by the beginnings of lines that shouldn't have been there yet, and his lips were bitten red and cracked. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and growled, gripping the edge of the sink tightly.

The flat was eerily still now, and the sounds of Steven opening the sticky drawer rang loudly. Ianto followed the noises through to the kitchen and pulled out a seat at the table to sit down. Steven was pouring the water from the kettle into the big blue teapot that normally lived on the top shelf of the cupboard, and he'd also managed to find a loaf of bread and produce a plate of doorstop-thick peanut butter sandwiches. He smiled when Ianto entered and poked a teaspoon into the swirling water. "I didn't know if you'd eaten, but since all I could find was peanut butter and bread, I thought it was a pretty good bet that you haven't. We're going shopping this afternoon, whether you want to or not, because there isn't enough food in."

"It's okay, there's a Tesco delivery due in..." He craned around to check the clock. "An hour. Shit, I really am sorry."

"I think a lawyer would call it extenuating circumstances." Steven set the teapot down on the table and fetched the jar of honey and the bottle of milk from the counter. "You're having it hot, sweet and milky, whether you like it or not. And then, when the Tesco delivery has come, we're going to go out and buy you something greasy and terrible and a couple of bottles of red wine and you are going to get completely plastered and tell me about her, and we'll drink to her memory. And stuff."

Ianto laughed softly. "Do you know who you remind me of?"

"Uncle Jack?" Steven asked with a heavy sigh.

"No." He watched Steven pouring the tea and smiled. "You remind me of me."

"Well, I can think of worse things."

**18.12.18**  
>Car headlights flashed across the ceiling above them and Ianto followed each one with his eyes, their rapid pace making him dizzy. The empty bottle lay heavy and cold against his side, but moving his hand to remove it was too much effort. "We're all mortal," he pronounced carefully during a break in the traffic. "I have to accept, I'm never going to see him again."<p>

Steven was still in the armchair, picking at the dregs of the bucket of fried chicken, and shook his head firmly. "You'll see him. You promised you'd wait for him, and you will."

"I can't beat time," he said mournfully. "Tick tock goes the clock. If Torchwood doesn't take me, time will. He'll come back, and I'll be gone. You... you'll look after him for me, won't you?"

"Ianto..." He dropped off the armchair and left the bucket behind, bringing the last bottle of wine over instead to poke Ianto with. "You're not that old. You can wait for him."

"I'll be old and grey and ugly. And dead." Ianto reached for the bottle and caught it on the second attempt. He propped himself up on one elbow to drink, momentarily stymied by the bottle top, and gestured expansively with it. "Could have been me, yesterday. Could have been me that the stupid hedgehog bumbled past in the dark. And now I'd be dead. You wouldn't have known. Jack wouldn't have known."

Steven patted his leg clumsily and looked up at him through wide, unfocused blue eyes obscured by his mop of blonde hair. "You're not allowed to die," he said simply. "I won't let you."

He stroked Steven's hair back. "You're my lega... legacy? That's the word. Legacy. No one can stop death. Even the Doctor can't keep me here."

"I'll tie you to something. Then you can't escape."

"Yeah..." He stared at the flashing lights until the thought at the edge of his mind presented itself fully, and then he scrambled to his feet and stumbled across to the desk. He knocked over a pot of pens and a stack of letters before he found the phone at the back of the desk, under a catalogue. His hands shook on it and he fumbled it over, stabbing at the buttons with clumsy fingers. "The Doctor can keep me here. He can fix this, fix me..."

"Uncle Ianto?" Steven sat up and stared at him. "You just said he couldn't."

"I was wrong." He held the phone to his ear, barely daring to breathe whilst he waited for it to be picked up. "Doctor? Doctor, I need you."

The phone fell from his grasp before he could hear an answer, and Steven collected it up and held it out to him. "Will he come?"

"He'll..." Wind rushed through the flat accompanied by a fierce roaring. Ianto smiled slowly and faced the wind. "He came."

The wind died down and left their ears ringing, and the door opened slowly. The Doctor who stepped out was familiar, and holding a flip phone in his hand as if he thought it might explode. "How did you get this number?"

Ianto took the other phone off Steven and held onto it protectively. "You gave it to me."

"You mean I will give it to you?"

"Yes." He glared. "Can't you do anything in the right order?"

The Doctor rubbed his ear and pulled a face at the ceiling. "Apparently not? So..." he stepped back as Ianto pushed past him into the TARDIS. "What's wrong, anyway? What's Jack got himself into this time?"

Ianto pushed him against the door and growled. "Jack is missing, and you should know about it. If you'd come in the right order, you would know."

He was held away with gentle force and pushed towards the seat on the other side of the console. "Ianto, tell me what happened."

"The Rift took him." He pushed the Doctor's hands away and wrapped his arms around himself. "It stole him like it steals people from Cardiff, and I can't go and save him because I can't find him, but I'm going to be here when he comes back, when he makes it back to me, and you're going to help me."

"Ianto..."

"You have to make me like him," he continued, ignoring the warning tone. "You have to fix me, because otherwise I am going to die, and I don't want to put him through that. Not when he's already been hurt so badly. I hurt him. I won't again."

The Doctor glared at him. "Ianto, you're drunk."

"I am. I have wanted this for ten years, though. It's not the alcohol talking." He got up again and started pushing buttons on the console. Nausea curled through him and his heart ached with longing. "I want him back, Doctor."

"And you'll get him back, but this isn't the way to do it," he insisted quietly. "There is nothing I can do. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Don't." He slammed his hand down on the console and shook his head. The pain was getting worse, so bad he could barely breathe. "Don't do that to him. He deserves better. He deserves better than me," he sobbed.

Steven clattered over the grating and hugged him fiercely, glaring past him to the Doctor. "Make this better," he demanded. Ianto tightened his grip on Steven's wrist and he turned his attention back to him. "Uncle Ianto? You really don't look well..."

"I'm not," he groaned. "I'm having a heart attack."

"What?" Steven helped him to sit down and patted his shoulder carefully. "You can't be having a heart attack. You're too young!"

"It's my second." He glared past Steven at the Doctor. "Four years ago, my first. Turns out that Canary Wharf," he paused to gasp air desperately, "Canary Wharf and Torchwood, didn't do me any good at all."

A golden light began to suffuse the TARDIS, and the Doctor's eyes widened. He flailed across the console and waved one hand at them. "Don't look at the light. Whatever you do, don't look."

Steven buried his face in Ianto's shoulder, but Ianto's attention had been caught by a growing sliver of gold. He stared into it, and as the music wove through his mind the last thing he heard was the Doctor shouting.


	3. Chapter 2

**1.12.61**  
>The ward was decorated for Christmas the night before Jack's discharge. He had helped them out to prove his health, and the nurses had finally given up on getting him back to bed. Now he sits on an examination table with his shirt off and watches Diane checking readings on her equipment. "What's the prognosis, Doc? Will I ever play the violin?"<p>

"If I had a pound for every time I'd heard that I'd be a wealthy woman." She smiles at him and taps at her screen. "There is nothing preventing you from playing the violin, apart from the fact that you don't have a violin and that you're in my office."

He laughs and raises one shoulder in a shrug. "Maybe I'll rectify that when you finally let me out of here."

"Yes, well, if you could persuade the Director to give me access to your medical records, or answer some of my questions yourself, maybe you wouldn't still be freezing your arse off on my examination table. I might even have let you take the chair," she huffs at him, and it's more exasperated than amused. "I'm working from scratch here, Captain."

"I'm unkillable. What more do you need to know?" He frowns at her. "Why do you call him the Director?"

"Because that's who he is." She gives him another of those looks like she's not sure what to make of him and shakes her head. "He's not the sort of man it's easy to get close to. It's not even easy to find out his name. I know he's called Jones, but that's only because I made out his signature on my contract. You know him better, that's fine, but we haven't a clue. Arms out, please."

He folds them instead and studies the tiles. "He's... He's changed so much."

"Harkness!" She snaps, then throws her arms up and turns away. "Fine, but if you get hurt or ill you're not being treated in my facility until you let me have full medical records, alright?" When he nods, smirking, she starts tidying away her equipment. "You're as bad as he is."

"He learned from the worst," Jack tells her, grinning even though it's the last thing he feels like doing. "Men of mystery – and devilishly attractive."

She slams a drawer shut and fills out the last form. "You're a free man. I dare say we'll see each other if you come back to Torchwood; try to be less annoying, smug and attractive in future." He inclines his head and she goes to open the door for him. "Your lift is in my office."

He pauses in pulling his shirt back on and looks at her curiously. "My lift?"

Diana looks surprised and suspicious. "The Director, of course. Weren't you expecting him?"

"I never know what to expect any more," he admits, refastening his shirt carefully. Diana is still studying him closely and he shrugs it off. "It's complicated."

"It always is." She shuts the door, then closes the lid on her desk and leans back on it. "Are you going to make life here difficult? It's not an accusation, honest. I just want to be prepared."

He smiles back at her. "I've been told that it's never dull when I'm around. Thank you," he adds sincerely, "for looking after me. I know I'm a terrible patient."

"Get on," she shoos him out of the door into the corridor. "Two doors down. Try to make him smile once or twice, will you?"

The corridors are busier at this time of day, and two nurses watch him make his way past Diana's private storeroom and to her office. The walk isn't long enough, so he pauses outside to collect himself and then enters without knocking. Ianto is standing behind the desk, turned away from a watercolour that Jack tentatively identifies as the Valley of the Rocks, and looks Jack over quickly when he enters. "Clean bill of health?"

"Apparently there is nothing stopping me playing the violin," he offers, and Ianto's eyebrow raises slightly. "Were you expecting anything different?"

"Not really," Ianto admits. "I told Director Holbourn that there was no need to keep you in for observation, but she preferred to avoid the paperwork involved in avoiding protocol."

Jack stares at him and realises with an ache just how much things have changed. "You have no idea," he says softly, "just how little sense that makes to me."

"It's how we do things now. We had to get organised to cope with the expansion," he explains. "It wasn't easy without you." Before Jack can decide whether his tone is irritated or regretful, Ianto moves on and picks up a suitcase from by the side of the desk. "I brought you some of your things."

He accepts the suitcase and sets it down on the desk carefully. The zip is new and stiff, but it runs smoothly and he is able to lift the lid and reveal the contents. The sight of the dark wool brings tears to his eyes and he lifts it out carefully and steps back so it can hang to the floor. He clutches it in numb fingers and puts it on, and it is immediately reassuring. "I'm glad it didn't come with me." After all these years it smells of Ianto, not of him, and he wants it to stay that way until Ianto stops being so cold and comes back to him. "You needed it more than I did."

Ianto nods, and Jack doesn't know what that's supposed to mean, and glances at the clock. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah, sure." He shrugs into the coat more comfortably. It settles onto his shoulders as a familiar, reassuring weight, and wraps around him. Ianto is gently cold and Jack keeps expecting him to smirk or wink or call him 'sir' in an insubordinate manner to reassure him that he still cares, but there's nothing. It's been fifty years, Jack reminds himself, and follows Ianto into the corridor, down the stairs and out of the building in an uncomfortable silence.

The medical facility is at one side of the Torchwood campus, giving it - along with the field response centre to its left - the best access to the main road. Ianto leads him around the edge of the accommodation block in the middle, through bare gardens still glittering with the morning's frost, to the far side of the operations centre. Between the operations centre and the research centre is an elegant house in a neo-Georgian style, Ianto's home.

They make their way up the path and Ianto enters without having to unlock the front door first. It opens into a grand entrance hall with stairs rising up to the next floor on the left, and the stairwell is open to the ceiling two floors above. Jack forces a smile and turns back to Ianto. "Nice place. It's... spacious."

"It's too big for us," Ianto agrees. "This way. Steven said he'd stay around to see you."

Jack's heart plummets to his feet and he follows Ianto miserably, forcing himself to show interest and hide the distress that Ianto's words have caused. He'd not considered the idea that Ianto would have moved on, but now that idea seems ridiculous. The room on the left of the hall is the living room, and a tall, handsome man stands from the sofa to greet him. He's smartly dressed in light grey trousers and a lilac shirt, and his hair is greying but still mostly sandy blond. "Jack," he greets him, trepidation and wariness evident in his hesitation. "Ianto told me..."

"I told him everything," Ianto finishes for him. "He deserves to know."

"Of course." He flounders for something to say. "You two..."

He turns bewildered eyes on Ianto, who answers, "Steven's been living with me since... you remember my nephew David?" He nods and Ianto continues, "He was Steven's husband."

"Oh. Oh..." realisation dawns, with a guilt-ridden relief that the relationship is familial rather than romantic, and he looks over to Steven. "I'm sorry for your loss. Both of you," he adds to Ianto. "Was it Torchwood?"

"No. I kept them all out of it." Ianto indicates that he should take a seat in one of the armchairs and settles into the other himself. Steven is on the sofa, surrounded by books. "It was heart failure – congenital. It nearly got three generations, but I took matters into my own hands. They've fixed it now, but it came too late for David and my dad."

"I'm sorry," Jack tells them. He looks at a photo on the bookcase, of Steven and two people he suspects are Ianto's nephew and niece. "And how is Mica?"

"She's the Ambassador to Costa Rica," Ianto tells him with something approaching an emotion. "She married a local, but she's talking of coming back to run for the House of Lords in a couple of years. Their kids are grown and don't need them any more."

Steven looks nervous still, and swallows hard before he speaks. "Mum died twelve years ago. When David died, Ianto was my only family. David and I never had kids, you see. Never had time, and then David was too ill." He smiles across at Ianto and Ianto actually returns it. "We look after each other now."

"That's all that matters," Jack murmurs. "You must need the company during the long Winters up here."

Steven nods and smiles at him warmly, with a touch of teasing. "I'll be glad to hand him back to you, though. I need to trade him in for a younger model; one who doesn't disappear at all hours and return with long lost relatives, preferably."

"Does he make a habit of that?"

"Not really," Steven teases. "I think he's been waiting for the right one. It's good to have you back. Fifty years too late, but he always said you'd come back."

Jack smiles back and glances at Ianto from under his lashes. "Try keeping me away." He would have punched a hole through time to make it back to Ianto, but because he didn't have to he'd come back too late. Ianto is still being distant, so Jack turns his attention to Steven fully. "What do you do? Are you Torchwood?"

"No way," he accepts the change of subject and settles back on the sofa. "I'm lecturing like Mum did, but on Torchwood studies. My students hero worship me – there's not many around still who met the legend that is Captain Harkness, and none in academia."

He looks at him curiously, trying to remember where they might have met, and his eyes widen as hints from the conversation drop realisation into place. Steven looks worried for a moment and then understanding and amusement dawn in his eyes. "You don't recognise me," he laughs. "Uncle Jack..."

Jack pushes to his feet at the same time as Steven and steps around to coffee table to embrace him. Tears sting his eyes and he closes his eyes against them, but Steven's arms are just as tight as his own and he can't stop grinning. "I thought I'd never see you again," he admitted. "Never for a second did I expect to find you here."

Steven laughs again and holds him even tighter. "I should have expected that." He pulls back and looks at Jack properly, giving Jack the opportunity to study him. "I guess I've changed since I was ten. It's a long story, though." Releasing Jack, he turns to Ianto and pulls a very familiar pleading face. "Coffee, please, Ianto?"

Ianto inclines his head and heads out of the room, and Jack is happy enough for the moment to bury his concern and clear the textbooks off the sofa so that he can sit down.

**9.6.59**  
>"I feel like I'm betraying him," Steven admitted quietly. "Am I doing the right thing?"<p>

"He wanted you to be happy, and you're not going to manage that here, not yet," Ianto reassured him. "A change of scenery will do you good."

Steven glared at him half-heartedly. "Like you can talk. You'd never have left Cardiff if it weren't for the return of the Rift victims."

"No," he agreed calmly. "And waiting for him has nearly destroyed me. I can't see that happen to you as well – I promised David that I'd take care of you."

He laughed weakly and wiped his eyes. "Well, I looked after you for long enough. Oh, Ianto. I miss him."

"I know." Ianto stepped forwards and rested his hand on Steven's shoulder, turning him away from his last look at the house he'd shared with his husband for the twenty four years of their marriage. "It will get easier."

"Anytime soon?" he asked hopefully.

Ianto smiled sadly and looked into the distance. "Even if it were, it wouldn't feel it."

Steven choked and shook his head, giving Ianto another watery smile. "You're hopeless, you know that? That was your opportunity to be reassuring and tell me it'll stop hurting."

"It will." He dropped his hand and tucked it back in his pocket. "But you have to be ready for it to stop."

He swallowed hard and nodded. His hand closed around the keys and he held them out to Ianto. "Let's get this to the estate agents and then... I need to go to..."

"Are you sure you're ready for that?" Ianto asked gently. "We can stay a few days more, if you need to."

"No, no..." He glanced back at the house once more and squared his shoulders. "I have to do this."

Ianto drove to the estate agents' office and circled the block a few times whilst Steven went in to hand over the keys and the notepad of instructions he'd left on the house, as well as the furniture he'd left behind. As he was moving back in with Ianto he'd either left or sold everything, apart from a desk that he'd inherited from his mother, who had inherited it from her mother, and the grandfather clock that had been an anniversary gift to David's parents from Jack and Ianto, fifty years before. They had been safely delivered to Ianto's house, along with all the clothes, books and trinkets he'd chosen to keep, and everything the new owners had bought with the house were clearly marked, ready for the house clearance company to come in the next day and clear the rest.

He'd done most of the organisation for Steven, encouraging each decision out of him and then taking care of the details. It was easier that way, and every day Steven had taken the decisions a little more easily. Ianto wished that someone had been able to do the same for him after he lost Jack, but they were all so certain that he'd come back, no one had even considered it. Even now, their Cardiff home was swathed in dust cloths and plastic, waiting for them to return and let in the life again.

Steven emerged from the estate agents looking pale but calm just as Ianto rounded the corner again, and he pulled into the bus stop in front of the office to let him in and pulled away without another word before the next bus came along. He had to follow road signs to the municipal cemetery on the edge of town where David had chosen to be buried, even though he'd been there too many times by now. David had said that they had chosen Nottingham as their home, and that he wanted to stay here rather than return to his native Cardiff. So he lay in one of the regimented rows, a respectable distance from his nearest neighbour.

They parked close to the cemetery gates and strolled along the tranquil paths, past elegant memorials and marked benches, through avenues of saplings and away from the ancient yews of the churchyard and the weather-worn graves over which they stood sentinel. Bright flowers tumbled from flowerbeds and vases, and cherry trees scattered their pale petals across the path. David's grave was at the end of a row, under the shade of a sycamore, a fresh pile of earth and a simple wooden marker until it settled and they could place the neatly carved gravestone.

Ianto hung back and let Steven go on alone to give him privacy, and turned away to watch blossom drift from the trees. When he turned back, Steven was crouched in front of the grave with shoulders bowed and the fingers of one hand resting on the dry earth. They held the tableau for long minutes whilst a blackbird sang, and then Steven straightened up and got slowly to his feet, turned back to Ianto and trudged across the grass. "He's here," Steven said when he was close enough for Ianto to hear. "I know he is. And now..." he sniffed and wiped away his tears again. "Now I have to start moving on."

"He'll always be here when you need him," Ianto offered, and offered his arm at the same time.

Steven laughed, but slipped his arm through Ianto's and let him set a measured pace back through the graveyard. "He was always a terrible listener – I don't see how him being dead will change that."

"Well..." Ianto squeezed his arm and looked back at his nephew's resting place once more. "At least he won't interrupt you any more."

**5.8.16**  
>Ianto opened the door and studied the stranger on his doorstep. The boy was tall and gangly, and looked like he'd become suddenly taller and ganglier very recently. The band-branded T shirt he wore was obviously a well-worn favourite, probably the survivor of gigs and festivals, but it wasn't quite long enough any more. Messy blond hair nearly hid nervous blue eyes, and he flicked it off his face with a look of despondency. "Hi," he greeted him hesitantly. "I... my mum must have given me the wrong address, sorry... unless he's moved. I don't suppose you know of a Jack Harkness?"<p>

He tightened his grip on the edge of the door and studied the boy's face. "Steven Carter?"

"I... yeah." He shifted a backpack higher on his shoulder and looked more hopeful. "Are you... Are you my uncle Jack's partner?"

"His husband, yes." Ianto stepped back and opened the door fully. "You'd better come in. How did you get into the building?"

"I helped Mrs Kendrick with her shopping," Steven explained with a sheepish smile, kicking his trainers off next to the neat line of shoes in the hall. "She kept me talking for ever. I know I should have used the intercom, but she was there, and I wanted to surprise him."

Ianto sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Have a seat. Do you want a drink? Coffee, tea, whisky?"

"Oh, tea please." He sat down, perching on the edge of one of the cushions on the sofa, avoiding Tybalt in the armchair, and clutched his bag between his knees. "White, one sugar."

He nodded and crossed to the kitchen area to put the kettle on and retrieve a small teapot and the caddy of leaf tea. "It's not quick," he apologised, "but I like to do everything properly." He filled the teapot and set it on a tray with a mug, a teaspoon and tea strainer, and the milk bottle and brought it over to set it on the coffee table in front of Steven. "I'll let you fix it how you like it. Jack says I put too much milk in it."

Steven grinned and made his tea with a much smaller amount of milk than Ianto would have used. He stirred it once and sucked the spoon clean, then set the spoon down sheepishly. "Sorry, bad habit." He sipped his tea and closed his eyes. "Wow. Proper tea is nice."

"It makes a difference," Ianto agreed. He watched Steven watching him and broached the subject that was puzzling him. "Steven, you said you came here looking for Jack. Why?"

He sighed and hugged the mug close to his chest. "I'm gay, and Mum... is struggling with it, a bit. She doesn't know what to say or what advice to give, so she said that Uncle Jack would know better and that I should come and see him. I should have called ahead, I'm sorry. It's just been..." He waved a hand, and Ianto understood what he meant. "So she gave me your address and put me on a train this morning. Parents, eh?"

Ianto nodded and licked his lips nervously. He waited until Steven had put his mug down before he started again. "The thing is, Jack..." he hesitated and closed his eyes to say it, "Jack isn't here."

When he opened his eyes, Steven looked upset. "You don't mean that he's out at work, do you? He's... Is he alive?"

He nodded, then shook his head, and then nodded again. "I thought... your mum must know. I thought she'd have said something. He's Captain Jack Harkness, the missing leader of Torchwood." Steven looked confused. "You don't know anything about that?"

"No... well, I know about Torchwood, obviously, but..." He twisted his hands in his lap and searched Ianto's face. "I was only in year seven, I didn't pay any attention, and Mum never said Jack was involved. What... what happened?"

"I... it's too hard to explain," he offered apologetically. "I have... here..." He went to retrieve his computer and sat on the sofa next to Steven, brought up the Wikipedia article and passed it over to him. "One of my friends makes sure that it's all true. I'm not allowed to."

"Why not?"

"Because I have periods of wanting to delete myself from the record," he admitted quietly. "They think I should stay there."

Steven read the account in silence, with wide eyes that glistened with tears. When he was finished he set the computer aside and turned to watch Ianto instead. "I have real live heroes for uncles," he said at last with a weak smile. "I never knew... Christ. It's a miracle you survived."

"I've had medical care beyond what this planet can provide," he answered the question that no one ever dared to ask. "We have friends in interesting places."

"There have to be some perks," Steven said, smiling shyly. "And he left you his coat."

"Yeah. It looked after me, I'll look after it." He stood suddenly and returned the laptop to the desk. "I'm not Jack, but I am married to him, so maybe I'll be able to help you instead. You look like you packed for a few days."

"I can stay somewhere else," Steven offered quickly. "There's a few youth hostels..."

"Nonsense." Ianto stuffed his hands in his pockets and glanced at the hall cupboard. "You're family. Let's get you settled in, for starters."

**27.8.16**  
>Alice turned up right on the dot of one, as she'd arranged, and gave Ianto a tight smile in greeting. She was wearing smart trousers and a simple silk blouse, dressing to impress. "Thank you for having Steven, Mr Jones. I had no idea that Jack was missing; I would never have suggested it if I'd known."<p>

"I've enjoyed having him," Ianto assured her. "The place is too quiet normally. If you don't mind me asking, though, Jack's disappearance was all over the news..."

"Not in Brazil," she answered. "I went abroad for a few years to lecture in English in Rio, and apart from Steven I didn't keep in touch with anyone in the UK at all."

"Steven did say he was at boarding school." Ianto led her through to the living room, where Steven was sitting next to the coffee table with Tybalt sprawled next to him purring like an engine. "I think Tybalt will be sad to see Steven go."

"Only Tybalt?" Steven teased. "Hi, Mum."

She relaxed somewhat when she saw Steven's grin and went over to stroke Tybalt. "He's beautiful. How old is he?"

"Seven now." Ianto stopped next to them on his way to the kitchen. "I got him as a kitten when I moved to London and had to leave Jack behind for a while. He puts up with a lot from me."

Alice smiled back and rested her hand on Steven's head. "Are you ready to come home and spend some time with me, now?"

"I think so." He got to his feet and looked over at Ianto. "You could come and visit some time, now we're settled in an actual house."

He looked between them and saw the agreement in Alice's expression before he nodded at Steven. "I'd like that. And I'd like to have you both to stay some time... if you want to. Maybe over Christmas?"

"Maybe," she agreed. "For now, let me buy you lunch? To say thank you for having him, and to get to know each other."

Ianto hesitated, but Steven looked hopefully at him and he relented. "Thank you, that sounds great. And no, Steven, you're not allowed to take him with you."

Steven laughed and set Tybalt back on the floor. "One day, Uncle Ianto. One day."

**21.4.35**  
>The day of the wedding came with patchy clouds and brief bursts of sunshine. Ianto sat on the terrace with Alice and Rhiannon, sipping from a glass of wine and enjoying the quiet company. David and Steven were making the rounds of the tables hand-in-hand, sitting to talk with their friends and relatives and, in David's case, stealing abandoned glasses of wine when he thought Steven wasn't looking. "They wasted so much time," Rhiannon said eventually, watching them talking to some of David's colleagues. "All the years they've known each other."<p>

"They've been together for most of them," he pointed out, smiling at the memories. "They never wasted a day. I knew when David moved in with me that if they left, they'd leave together."

Alice reached across and touched his hand. "Are you going to be alright on your own up there? You'll be a long way from anyone else."

"I'll be fine," he assured her, covering her hand with his own. "The team are a family, they'll look after me if I need it."

She gave him a look that said that she thought he always needed looking after and squeezed his hand. "Well, if you ever need the company, I'm still looking for an excuse to retire."

David and Steven reached them and sat down in the spaces left by Johnny going to the bar and Mica having to rush to get her flight back to Costa Rica. They were beaming from ear to ear and looked as if they couldn't have stopped if they tried. "Hi," Steven greeted them, bumping shoulders with Ianto comfortably. "Is this the sedate table?"

"I bet you've said that to all of them," Rhiannon scoffed. "This is what happens when you leave it until you're forty to get married. Everyone else gets old as well."

"You're not old, Mam," he assured her. "I'm sure when the DJ starts up you'll be on the dance floor, body popping with the best of them."

Rhiannon gave him a bemused look and turned to her son. "You haven't actually got a DJ, have you?"

"No, Mam." He grinned and hugged Steven closer. "I wouldn't let him. We've got a string quartet instead."

"Oh, lovely. I remember the strings at Ianto's wedding..." She stopped abruptly and turned back to him. "I'm sorry pet."

He ignored Steven rolling his eyes and smiled at her. "Don't be. It was the best day of my life. We should have weddings more often."

"What we should do," Steven suggested, "is celebrate your silver wedding anniversary. It's this June, isn't it?"

"It was last year," he corrected quietly. "I wasn't up to celebrating it."

Steven bit his lip, but David pulled his phone out of his pocket and bent over it. "In that case we'll celebrate your... original pictures anniversary," he said at last. "Original pictures, what on Earth?"

"Twenty eight is better," Steven commented, leaning over to look. "We could leave it two years and celebrate your orchid anniversary."

Ianto blinked away the sting in his eyes and laughed. "I don't really feel like celebrating without him. Sorry. You missed my fiftieth birthday, though."

"Well then, we'll celebrate that," Steven decided. "And... maybe lie about your age."

"Maybe. Anyway, enough about me," he deflected. "This is your day. Is it everything you wanted?"

They looked at each other and their smiles softened. "It's been perfect," David answered for them both. "Even the weather has held off for us. I wish we'd done it ten years ago – twenty, even."

"Twenty years ago we were idiots." Steven rested his chin on David's shoulder from behind and rubbed their cheeks together. "Ten years ago we were idiots."

"Yesterday we were idiots, and I don't see it changing any time soon." He leaned back against Steven and closed his eyes. "It will be strange, coming back to Nottingham instead of Edinburgh. We might be able to understand the locals."

Ianto smiled back and ran his thumb along the underside of his wedding band, tracing the silver band through it. "Edinburgh will definitely be quiet without you," he offered, deadpan. "I might even get some sleep. Have you warned your new neighbours?"

"I don't think I want to know," Alice laughed. She raised her glass towards David and Steven. "Congratulations, again."

"Thanks, Mum." David leaned over and hugged her. "We're all one big incestuous family now."

**19.6.59**  
>Ianto sat in Steven's recently vacated chair and smiled at David, trying to be calm and reassuring when he just wanted to cry. He still looked young, but his skin was pale and the lines around his eyes were tight with pain. "How are you feeling?" he asked, voice whisper soft in the stillness of the room.<p>

"Like crap." David chuckled. Even that soft laugh wore him out, and he lay back into the pillows, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. "I should stop doing that. Should have learned by now."

"You wouldn't be you if you learned from your mistakes," Ianto told him dryly. He flicked his gaze over David's face again. "The doctors are worried."

"The doctors know I'm probably not going to last the night," David corrected him. "I know it, you know it. Steven won't accept it." He reached for Ianto's hand and held it as tightly as he could. "You look after him, alright? Take him back to Edinburgh; it'll do you both good. You're too quiet these days."

"I miss you both." He blinked back tears and rubbed his thumb over the back of David's hand. "Mica's on her way. You have to wait for her."

"Fine, I'll wait." He closed his eyes and rested his head against the pillows. "I'm so tired, Ianto."

"I know." He stood up and leaned over to kiss David's forehead. "Get some sleep. We'll be right here."

Mica and Alex arrived a few hours later, rumpled and bleary-eyed still from the plane journey. The room was small, but it seemed to loom large around the four of them clustered around the bed. David woke up when they arrived, told them he was glad to see them and that he felt like crap, admonished them to look after Steven and Ianto for him, and Alex to look after Mica as well, and then went back to sleep. At that point Steven started crying, fat tears rolling unheeded down his cheeks, and he held tight to David's hands with both of his own, as if that would keep him there.

At half past nine, David's hand relaxed in Steven's and his chest fell still. He'd grown weary of transplants that his body rejected, drugs that didn't work and operations that hurt more than they helped, and he'd issued a DNR. Being David, it had been nearly a month before it came into play, but as the doctor noted down a time of death, gave them his condolences and left, Steven folded forwards to rest his forehead on the bed and wept.


	4. Chapter 3

**5.12.61**  
>Ianto sits in the deep chair on the far side of the desk from Jack and considers him across the expanse. "Are you sure you want to come back to Torchwood and that you're ready for it? This is your opportunity to get out, if you want to take it."<p>

He folds his arms and glares. "When have I ever suggested that I'd want to leave Torchwood?"

"You used to talk about it," Ianto says, frowning at the recollections. "You used to talk about going back to Paris or to Rio, writing a book..."

"With you!" he interrupts. "I wanted to do those things with you, to get you out of Torchwood and have more time with you. Why would I want to do them alone, when I'd know that you're back here and..." he trails off, chilled into silence by the expression of hurt on Ianto's face. "Ianto, it's been seven days since..." Since he got to the site of the explosion to find Ianto clinging to life and being loaded into an ambulance. Since he'd pulled off his coat and pressed it into the hands of the ambulance driver, instructing him to make sure it stayed with Ianto. Since the Rift opening he'd been searching for had opened too close to him and drawn him into a world of fire and smoke and pain with a force he couldn't fight. Since he woke up in a world he didn't understand, alone and resigned to having lost Ianto and not knowing if he could go on or if there was a point. "Maybe I should go," he concedes. "Whilst I won't be missed."

"You would be missed," Ianto says. His eyes, when Jack finally meets them, are aching with longing that he can't seem to express. "But if you wanted to go, I'd be here waiting when you were ready to come back."

"I'm back," he whispers. "I'm right where I want to be."

Ianto smiles and relaxes, and he pushes a printed contract and a pen across to him. "This was drawn up by Prince Harry and myself, in preparation for your return. It's essentially the contract you would have had when we restructured Torchwood before you disappeared, if you'd had a contract."

"Contracts are so constraining," he scoffs, because Ianto expects it and maybe if at least one of them does as is expected then they'll make it back to normal. He's reading the contract, though, puzzling out the meaning from the legalese. "It's pretty comprehensive," he acknowledges approvingly, and Ianto passes him the pen. "I only have one question."

"Go on?"

He tapped the line in question. "It says that I'm answerable to you, the monarch and the Governor-General of Torchwood. Who is it?"

"The current Governor-General is Princess Charlotte of Wales." He gestures to a portrait on his wall, a young woman in a formal version of something like the UNIT uniform. "She is the daughter of King William. The role passes to the second in line to the throne, or the next adult in line."

"She's beautiful." He studies her features and smiles. "He married Kate, then?"

"He did. They wanted to postpone it in light of the disaster in Edinburgh, but Gwen and Harry persuaded them to go through with it, to keep smiling and lift the country's mood." His face clouds with melancholy. "I was sorry to miss it, more sorry that you weren't there."

"I'll watch it on DVD." Jack signs the contract quickly and pushes it back to Ianto. "There, I'm all yours." He waggles his eyebrows and leans back. "Can I request a tour?"

Ianto, finally, smiles, and countersigns the contract. "No escape now, Captain. Just let me file this and then I can show you around."

Ianto's office is at the centre of the hexagonal operations centre, and the corridor that stretches from one side of the building to the other and parts around the office marks the divide between administration and operation. On each side, a block of individual offices bookends a wedge-shaped workroom. One of the workrooms is quiet and studious, with small groups monitoring communications, plotting routes on the wall-mounted screens and tracking suspects and teams. The other room is far more relaxed, and with a smaller team it seems more spacious. They look towards the door when it opens and carry on, ignoring Jack and Ianto. "Gorgeous stranger appears in the doorway and they don't even blink." Jack glances at Ianto. "Definitely your employees."

"Of course. No revolving door on the stationery cupboard here." Ianto closes the door again and raises one eyebrow. "No need when everyone lives on site."

Jack grins, not because it's funny but because it's the most familiar Ianto has been in a week. Maybe he's just the sort of person that everyone flirts with automatically, but even that seems like an achievement from the dour, tight-eyed man who had first come to meet him in Diana's office. It gives him hope that the man he loves is still in there somewhere.

It's raining outside, so they bow their heads and hurry straight through the accommodation area, past the rec centre in the middle, and into the training centre on the far side of the complex. Ianto combs his hair back into its normal tidy style and beckons Jack straight past the desk. "We're just looking," he tells the receptionist. "No need to book us in."

This, too, is a hexagonal building bisected by a corridor with a smaller room in the centre. In this building, however, the smaller room is a unisex changing room. The left hand side of the building is a fully-equipped gym, complete with a resistance pool and a physical combat training area, and the right holds a firing range, driving simulator and planning room. Jack hovers by the armoury and his hand drops to his hip. "I came back naked," he said quietly. He still feels naked with his ring finger bare. "I need to shoot something."

"Later." Ianto waits by the door for Jack to come and join him again. He leads him to the lift and presses the call button. "I think we should wait here a while. You can see everything else from up here."

Jack clasps his hands behind his back in the lift and watches Ianto's expression in the mirror. It's one of the frequent, achingly familiar moments in which he can almost forget everything that's gone wrong, but the empty feeling inside him won't let him. The lift arrives in seconds anyway, and Ianto strides ahead of him into an elegant but simple canteen. A few people are sitting at tables around the room and stand to attention when they enter. Someone whispers Jack's name and he knows that the news will now spread like wildfire. It had only been stopped to that point by the subtlty of Diana's team, and the fact that she kept him to herself.

Ianto does that now, and leads Jack to a sofa facing the plate windows before he goes to the counter to order them drinks. The menu is clearly aimed at keeping the field agents in top shape, with a few luxuries to make life more interesting, and a card on the table next to the sofa explains that he can ask his doctor to send a specialised menu to the kitchen and pre-book meals from it if he needs to. Ianto, fortunately, brings hot chocolate, sandwiches and cake on a plain wooden tray and sets it down on the table. "You look like you needed hot chocolate. And cake always goes down well."

He beams, despite the fact that Ianto insists on giving him the sandwiches first. They're smoked cheese and tomato on white – his favourites. Right now, he can't believe that he ever doubted that Ianto would he here waiting for him when he came back; Ianto has always looked after him, and he wouldn't let anything get in his way – not even death.

"I'm really impressed," he says at last, rather than giving voice to thoughts that he can't confess to this Ianto. "It's what we always dreamed of."

"Yeah." Ianto looks out through the rain, across the campus. He smiles and looks at Jack's reflection. "The work would have driven you mad, though."

**3.8.29**  
>Steven dumped another box on the kitchen table and wiped his forehead. "Whose stupid idea was it to move in in the middle of a heatwave?"<p>

"Your uncle, I think," David told him, following him in with a pair of suitcases. "He seems to be in charge of everything else."

"Wait, my uncle?" Steven gaped at him. "How is he my uncle when he does anything wrong? He's not even related to me!"

"You adopted me, you get to deal with the responsibility. David didn't have a choice about it." Ianto came out of the kitchen and collected the suitcases from David with quiet thanks.

"Wouldn't be here, if I did," he grumbled, but he nudged Ianto with his elbow and smiled. "There's just a couple of boxes left to bring in. Steven and I will get them."

"Thanks, boys." He paused at the bottom of the stairs and looked the pair of them over. "You two go and get those, then we'll go over to the canteen and get some lunch, okay?"

"The magic words!" David grabbed Steven and tugged him out of the front door to get the last things from the van, and Ianto took the suitcases up to the bedrooms, laughing. The house had three bedrooms, one at the front and one at the back with a connecting bathroom between them, and the master bedroom on the right over the kitchen and the dining room. There was also a study over the downstairs toilet, and another leading off the master bedroom over the garage. It was a beautiful house, and made the move away from Cardiff easier.

He set the suitcases down on the right beds, back bedroom for David and the master bedroom for him, and left them there. By the time he got downstairs the boys had put the last boxes by the wall and were waiting for him to bundle him out of the door. It was a beautiful warm day, and the campus was only just finished and being slowly occupied by the teams. Young rose bushes flowered in dry flowerbeds, and flowers tumbled from window boxes and hanging baskets. They passed the night-shift operations team clustered outside the rec centre and called out greetings as they went in. There was another canteen in the training centre to provide a more health-conscious menu, but the restaurant in the rec centre was more relaxed and comfortable, giving table service all day.

Members of his team, scattered around the room, greeted them as they entered, and a waitress hurried to seat them with a bright smile, and gushed about the quality of the kitchen and the space they now had. The whole campus had a back-to-school atmosphere, and Ianto was looking forwards to throwing himself into work here.

**11.10.27**  
>Ianto entered the conference room at the London office with his head researcher, Tessa Giles, and they took the chairs closest to the screen. "Thank you all for coming." He looked around the table and his gaze settled on Prince Harry. "I assume you've all seen the news reports."<p>

Brigadier Harris grunted and shook his head. "Terrible business. Have you identified him yet?"

"No." He sighed and straightened his papers. "We don't even know if the victim is one of the thirty known to have been lost to the Rift, or someone we didn't know about. Our Medical Examiner hopes to have checked the DNA profiles of the missing that we have on record by the end of the week – hopefully that will provide us with an identity."

"How were they found?" Harry asked. "Was it close to any of the disappearances?"

"No. The initial victims were taken from open places, spread across the whole active area indiscriminately," Tessa answered for him. She pressed a button on the keyboard and showed a map of the city on the screen behind them. Over this she layered a plot map of the Rift victims who were taken on the first night. "They followed the lines of the Rift. Since then..." She pressed another key and the subsequent victims appeared on the map one at a time. "As you can see, the disappearances have become more targeted. We believe that the Rift anchors to certain locations, and the longer the history of activity on the site, the more likely it is to be an anchor point." Once more she layered readings over the map, but this time it was all Rift activity in the city, increasing in stages and becoming more concentrated. "We don't have the historical data from Cardiff to verify this, but records do suggest that a similar thing has happened there.

"The victim returned on Saturday was found here," she told them, indicating an area of open land in the city centre. "It's a former mill site, and an amber level activity zone."

Brigadier Harris peered over his glasses at her. "Are we likely to see more of the victims returned?"

She glanced at Ianto and nodded. "We assume so."

Harry, too, looked at Ianto. "There's no chance it's him?"

He sighed and shook his head. "Even considering the severity of the injuries sustained, Jack would have recovered by now." There was an awkward silence whilst everyone avoided looking at him, and he flipped the page over to look at the notes he'd scribbled down over the last few days. "The current facility in Edinburgh isn't sufficient to provide the medical care the Rift victims require, nor is it set up to carry out the research into the Rift that is now necessary and possible." He looked over at Harry primarily. "I'd like to establish a full base with training, research and medical facilities, and with accommodation for the agents stationed there. The Highland and Island hubs and the Torchwood House centre can become outposts, with provision of cover centralised in Edinburgh."

"Okay." Harry nodded and leaned back in his chair. "Get the proposals to me, then we can talk about budgeting." He waited for Ianto to acquiesce. "And I want you in charge up there."

Ianto's eyebrow rose curiously. "What about London?"

"Move the centre of operations to Edinburgh with you. That will reaffirm the unification, get you out from under parliament's watchful eye and, if we choose the site well, keep the nerve centre of Torchwood away from a population concentration." He looked at each of them in turn. "This is our opportunity to have a fully functional, centralising base, purpose built to take Torchwood through the twenty first century." He stood, and they stood as well. "Make it good."

**3.1.12**  
>The conference call connected and Ianto forced himself to relax. Di Green smiled at him from Edinburgh, setting a mug of coffee next to a hard hat on her desk. "Director Green," he greeted her warmly. "Nice of you to join me at last."<p>

"Sorry, Ianto. We had another power outage." She shrugged and looked up at the clock. "It only went down for about half an hour today."

"We really need to get you into the new building," Ianto told her. "How's it coming on?"

"Well, the electricians are finished, and London's technicians went in today to start installing the monitoring equipment. They think that'll be done by the end of the week, and then they'll start moving the server in and then the access stations. Computer wise, we might be able to move in by the end of the month." She paused to take another sip of her coffee and scowl at the screen. "The kitchen is nearly fitted as well – appliances are in, but the counters and cupboards are still going in. We've got a shipment of furniture coming next week, and we should be at a stage by then that that just needs to go in, and that will finish the dormitories. The bathrooms are being plumbed in this week ready to tile next week, once the decorators have finished the medical suite."

"We're on schedule to move in next month, then?" he checked.

"Absolutely," she agreed. "We've been able to get everything in really smoothly. It's a perfect site for it."

"Maybe. I am a bit worried that it'll become a hot spot of Rift activity." He tapped his pen on the desk. "Abandoned mills always seem to."

"At least we'll be conveniently located to respond." She shook her head. "Relax, Ianto. It'll be a huge improvement on the portacabin, and we'll deal with any problems as and when they arise."

"Just like we always do." He found a piece of paper and scribbled a note. "I'll come up for the opening, if you don't mind me treading on your toes?"

"You're still my director," she pointed out. "Are we going for a grand opening, or a low-key affair?"

"Grand, I think. Show them that we're doing something to protect them. Let's hope we get that far without any deaths." Ianto glanced at the calendar. "We're doing well so far."

"An improvement on last year, at least." She drained the last of her coffee and picked up her hard hat. "Right, I need to get back to work and check up on a sighting in one of the suburbs. Is there anything else you need from me?"

"No, that's everything. I'll make arrangements for the opening, leave you to get on with the everyday running," he offered. "Take care."

"Always do." She smiled and leaned across to end the call.


	5. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay in posting this. I've been playing host again, and it's not conducive to getting things done. Back on track now.

**14.12.61**  
>Jack brushes sleet out of his hair and pushes the door open cautiously, setting his boots down next to Steven's and padding in socked feet into the living room. The curtains are drawn, shutting out the worst of the weather, and Steven and Ianto both have books on their laps. He takes his coat off and hangs it on the hook on the back of the door, then goes and collapses onto the sofa next to Steven. "It's cold out," he comments when the greetings are finished. "I think we might get snow tonight."<p>

"I hope you're not going to spend the night on your roof." Ianto puts a bookmark in and sets the book aside. He smiles at Jack, who is trying not to look as unsettled as he feels, and stands. "I know you, Jack, and I know this area. It wasn't hard to find you and make sure you were alright."

He brushes his fingers through Jack's hair, neatening it from the wind and Jack's attempt at drying it off. It's gentle, and Jack leans into it, hoping that it will last longer... that they're finally getting somewhere. The last two weeks have ached, although every day has been a little easier than the last and a little gentler on his battered and confused heart. Ianto leaves him and his slippers - ridiculous zebra-striped things that Steven bought him and that he wears more out of spite than out of a desire for warm feet - slap their way across the hall and into the kitchen.

"Give him time," Steven says next to him, quiet so that Ianto doesn't hear, reaching across to squeeze Jack's hand. "I know it hurts, but it's been a long time for him and..." He bites his lip and starts rubbing the back of Jack's hand gently. "He got lost somewhere along the way."

"It happens," Jack tells him with a glance at the door. A brighter light comes in through it from the clear bulbs in the hall compared to the standard lamps they're using in the living room, but there's no shadow breaking the light. "You can only go so long without it before you start to close yourself off."

Steven nudges him and nods at the door. "Go and talk to him. Neither of you should be on your own when you're both right here."

He sighs and squeezes Steven's hand. "I will get through to him eventually, won't I?"

"Not if you don't try." He pushes Jack off the sofa, and closes his eyes when Jack stops to kiss his forehead. "You can bring me a slice of the chocolate cake if it goes tits up and you need an excuse."

Jack laughs and crosses the hall to the kitchen, curling his toes up to protect against the cold that strikes through the stone flags. He sits on the table and swings his feet off the ground, ignoring Ianto's pointed and amused glare, and watches Ianto's precise movements as he prepares a tray of drinks. "I went to the restaurant in the rec centre this afternoon," he says at last. "We played cricket at lunch, commanders against primary field team. They wiped the floor with us."

"I feel for you." Ianto reaches up for another mug and doesn't look around. "David played county cricket; did Steven tell you?"

"No, he didn't." He swings his feet some more, then drops to the floor again and stands next to Ianto. "Was he good?"

"He was. Never played for England, but... yeah, he was good." He flicks the coffee machine on and turns to Jack. "Did you enjoy your game?"

"I did. And then it was still quiet, so we went for drinks, and I saw the posters..." he trails off and glances up at Ianto. "The Christmas party?"

Ianto nods and his gaze drifts to somewhere just over Jack's shoulder. "It's held at the conference centre. UNIT have theirs there the week before. I go to both."

His eyes are distant with loneliness, and Jack reaches out to take his hand and hold it. They got married there, in the grand dining hall where UNIT UK hold all their formal functions, and now Torchwood as well. It must have hurt him to stand there alone and put on a brave face for the gathered masses, especially when he still bore the scars of the night that had ripped Jack away from him. He waits for Ianto to come back before he tells him, "I'm here now. And I wondered if you would go to the party with me?"

"Everyone will want to see you," Ianto tells him. "You're a legend."

"Quite honestly," Jack says, "I only care about one person there."

"Do I have to be jealous of anyone?"

"No. You really don't." He leans closer, hesitating an inch away, and then Ianto's lips meet his. It's soft, gentle, tentative, everything it has always been and in that moment it's the best thing that has ever happened to him. When Ianto pulls back Jack has to open his eyes again, and Ianto is looking lost and confused. Jack licks his lips and straightens up. "Is that a yes?"

**6.7.14**  
>Gwen sat on the edge of the bed next to him and held his hand. She was pale, with dark smudges under her eyes that gave away how little sleep she'd got last night. By the time his team had got him back to the Hub at just after two in the morning Gwen had been there waiting for him, and she'd barely left his side since. It was reassuring having her there, even after the pain that spread across his chest, shoulder and back had been sorted by the good drugs.<p>

He stilled her fingers, which were trailing across his wrist, and smiled at her reassuringly. "So, any news?"

"Adrian's on his way to talk to you," she told him. Her eyes were wide and worried and he squeezed her hand without feeling any more confident than she looked. "He wants to send you to Cardiff Royal Infirmary, at least for a couple of nights, just in case."

"That sounds reasonable." He looked at the doorway, where Adrian had just entered, and kept his smile in place. "Was I overdoing it again?"

"You exist in a constant state of overdoing it," Adrian scolded him. He'd trained as a vet before retraining at the age of thirty, and was the oldest Torchwood agent in Cardiff after Gwen. His bedside manner was still geared more towards frightened animals than grumpy humans, but it was much better than Owen's had been. He and Ianto had an ongoing argument about Ianto working too hard and too much, and Ianto ached enough that he was prepared to concede defeat. "If you'd listened to me six months ago..."

"I'll let you make it an order," Ianto assured him. "Now, what's wrong with me?"

Adrian sighed and tucked his tablet into his pocket, leaning forwards on the rail at the end of the bed. "You had a heart attack." He watched Ianto's reactions and tilted his head. "You don't look surprised."

"I'm not." He retrieved his hand from Gwen and massaged feeling back into it – she had an impressive grip. "My dad and my maternal grandmother both died of heart failure, and it was either a heart attack or the curry coming to get me. It was bound to not be the curry sooner or later."

"Yes, well..." Adrian glanced at Gwen and then fixed his gaze on Ianto again. "I want to get you into a proper hospital for monitoring, and to get that shoulder patched up better. You won't need surgery this time, but I don't think it's the first time it wasn't the curry, alright?"

He curled his fingers into the blanket and picked at a thread. "I need to tell Rhiannon to get herself checked out as well, then."

"That would probably be for the best." Adrian came around the bed to check his eyes and then examine the bandages that covered his shoulder. "Is this hurting?"

"Throbbing gently," he answered, careful not to go with his instincts and shrug. "I've had worse."

"I've read your medical records. You were very lucky, though," he fixed Ianto with a stern gaze. "Kashif saved your life today, alright?"

Ianto nodded and glanced at his shoulder. "I know. It was too close."

Adrian squeezed his other shoulder and smiled. "You made it, though, and that's what matters. I'll go and make arrangements for you to be taken to the hospital and checked over. Gwen, make sure he doesn't move, alright?"

She nodded, blinking fast, and reached for Ianto's hand as Adrian left again. "Are you alright?"

He glanced at the doorway and grinned. "I'm alright, alright?"

"Oh stop it." She sniffed and wiped at her cheeks. "You're far too young for a heart attack. And you're fit, and you don't smoke..."

"I drink too much," he pointed out. "It was bound to happen sooner or later. My doctors have been watching out for it for years, with not much help from me, I admit." He squeezed her hand again and smiled at her. "I'll be fine. They'll take care of me."

Gwen scowled. "Shouldn't the Doctor have fixed this? I thought you were cured of everything."

"It's part of who I am," he said, trying to calm her even though he didn't understand it himself. "Maybe they could repair it now, but then I'd go on and have another heart attack and the damage would be done all over again. Better that we know and can go forwards taking it into account, right?"

"Yeah." She smiled again and patted his hand. "I'll go and pack you some clothes up. You relax, you hear?"

**14.7.14**  
>"You wanted to see me?" Kashif leaned in the doorway with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, one eyebrow raised at Ianto. "Louisa sent me."<p>

"Yes, I did." He set the paperwork aside and capped his pen, then gestured to the seat on the other side of the desk. "Sorry, I'm still catching up on what I missed whilst I was away."

"I do not envy you," Kashif laughed. "I can't keep up with my own. You never told me how much was involved in the second in command role. So much for thinking it was all running around giving orders."

"That's what the commander does," Ianto teased. "Their second cleans up after them."

"Ah, a hangover from Captain Harkness's days?" Kashif asked.

He dropped his gaze to the spare desk in his office, which hadn't been used in three years. "You say that like he worked here years ago," he scolded. "Besides, I stopped being his second in command here when I went to London."

"And I doubt Gwen did much of his paperwork." He leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees. "Anyway, I don't think you wanted to talk to me about paperwork."

"In a circumspect way, I did," Ianto contradicted him. "I suppose you've heard why I collapsed last week?"

"Adrian and Gwen told us all. We all had our suspicions anyway; guess I'm just glad it wasn't worse."

"So am I." He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands on his stomach. "So I'm retiring from Cardiff's day to day operations." Kashif gaped at him and he continued, "I'll still be based here, but I'm too great a risk in the field now and it will allow me to focus on the development of the organisation as a whole, particularly on what's happening in Edinburgh. I've been distracted by the small picture since Jack..." He swallowed and carried on. "Anyway, I need to get back to the big picture."

Kashif closed his mouth into a wry smile. "And you're telling me because..."

"Because I want you to become the commander of this Hub," he explained, and Kashif gaped again. "You're quick thinking, a strong decision maker, comfortable with command and have a good grasp of the requirements of the city. You're also charismatic, and the team all like you." He looked at his calendar. "I'll give you until Friday to make a decision."

"I..." Kashif let out a breath and nodded. "Thanks. I'll need to talk to Aisha. Really, Ianto, thank you. It's... I can't believe you asked me."

"Believe it." Ianto smiled at him and stood. "And now I think you have paperwork to do. Oh, Kashif?"

"Yeah?"

"Keep it under your hat for the moment." When Kashif agreed he opened the door for him, and followed him out onto the landing. The new Hub was in an old station building, and his office was one of two on the upper floor, so from the landing outside it he could look down the stairwell and watch his team working. Gwen waved up at him when she saw him and carried on her phone conversation, resting her spare hand on her swollen stomach. She'd soon be off work again, and there would only be him left of those who had worked in the old Hub. Tim and Anthony returned with a box of suspicious items from a car boot sale and Ianto went to make coffee and join them. He wasn't gone yet.

**16.12.18**  
>Rhys was pale and his red-rimmed eyes stood out starkly, fixed on Gwen's still face. Her mam sat next to him and held his hand, and Ianto sat on the other side of the bed. Everyone else was shut out, waiting for news at their homes, at the Hub, in the waiting room, in whatever bar they'd poured themselves into. They would all keep their phones on, waiting and praying for a miracle but expecting the opposite. Torchwood worked miracles; it didn't get them.<p>

Ianto looked at Rhys once more and got up to leave the room. The other man didn't even look at him, but Mary gave him a distressed glare that he escaped quickly. He'd done this too often to go through it again. Kashif looked up when he stepped out onto the corridor and stood. "Is she..."

"Still fighting." He sugar-coated the truth and indicated the coffee machine down the hall. "That's Gwen through and through."

"It's all my fault," Kashif leaned against the wall and hung his head. "She was my responsibility."

Ianto scoffed and started inserting coins into the machine. "She walked into it."

"You're not supposed to speak ill of the dead."

He looked sidelong at Kashif and pressed the button firmly. "She isn't dead yet. Look, Gwen's been with Torchwood for years. She's come back three times, and every time she's been accepting that she was probably signing her own death warrant. It's morbid, but people die at Torchwood, especially if they have a tendency to drop things, press the wrong button or trust small fluffy animals just because they're small and fluffy."

"So that's it; we're all going to die?" Kashif was glaring at him, and it intensified when Ianto shrugged. "How can you be so casual about it?"

Ianto met his gaze and sipped his coffee, pulling a face when he tasted it. "That is disgusting. Yes, we're all going to die, Kashif. Most of us are going to die to Torchwood. Look, I know I sound callous, but that's because I am. I outlived nearly eight hundred people in one day when I survived the Battle of Canary Wharf." He sighed and blew on his coffee, then cradled it between his hands. "Fuck, I need a drink."

"Adrian won't be happy," Kashif warned.

He snorted. "Adrian was at the bottom of a vodka bottle when I last saw him, and didn't seem to plan on moving any time soon. We all deal in our own way."

Kashif nodded and watched a nurse drift down the corridor towards Gwen's room. Eventually he asked, "How do you deal?"

"I don't know yet." He straightened up and followed the nurse, gut instinct driving him forwards. "My coping mechanism fell into the Rift in Edinburgh."


	6. Chapter 5

23.12.61  
>Jack sips his whisky and watches the good-natured banter between Diana and Martin King, the Medical Director in Cardiff. He likes all of the officers at Torchwood, which doesn't surprise him now he knows that Ianto hand-picked them all from the ranks. They've moved from the main dining hall, where the party is still going on, to the smaller sitting room where he and Ianto and the heads of UNIT used to entertain heads of state at conferences. It hasn't changed much since they were there together last, drinking with the Prime Minister, Brigadier Sanderson and Prince Harry to another successful conference. Even their wedding photo is still there on the bookshelf, surrounded by others that should have supplanted it.<p>

Down the hall he hears the music change to a softer, waltzing piece, and he drains the last of his whisky and stands to offer Ianto his hand. "Mr Jones." Ianto looks curious, and places his hand into Jack's with hesitance. "May I have this dance?"

His hearing is good, and so he's aware of their colleagues' happiness for them and frustration at them once they think that they're out of hearing distance. If Ianto is aware of it he doesn't show it, but he lets Jack lead him back into main hall, where murmurs from the crowd bring them to a stop at the edge of the dance floor. The room is decorated in lush reds and golds, with a sprinkling of silver calling to mind the frost that had clung to the hedges all day whilst they drove down there. Jack pulls Ianto around and into an intimate ballroom hold, with one hand between Ianto's shoulders pressing him close and the other holding Ianto's hand to his chest. When they've settled into the rhythm, swaying from side to side and shifting their feet in time with the music, Ianto's free hand curls around the back of Jack's neck, and Jack rests their cheeks together and closes his eyes.

It feels so perfect having Ianto in his arms again; after all, it's been less than a month for him since he last lay awake with Ianto sprawled across his chest in an ungainly, snoring heap and woke him in such a pleasant way that they'd nearly been late for their flight to Edinburgh. It's been so much longer for Ianto, and although he hopes that someone has held him like this in the years between them, he knows that Ianto hasn't let anyone that close. He had Steven and David, and now he has Steven and Jack.

All too soon the song ends and a faster one starts up and, rather than let Jack pull him into that one as well, Ianto pulls away and tugs on Jack's hands. "We need to talk," he says in answer to Jack's unspoken question, and it's both the most promising and most frightening thing he's heard since his return.

They call in to the sitting room to say goodnight and then make their way up the stairs towards the suite they're sharing. No one seemed to know how to deal with them, most of all Jack, so they gave them the only two bedroom suite in the whole building and let them sort it out themselves. Each floor is divided into suites clustered around a central living room, but most of them have five or six bedrooms for branches or groups to share together. This suite is on the topmost floor, where the space is the most limited, and the climb gives Jack the opportunity to really worry about what Ianto has to say.

When they reach the top of the staircase Ianto swipes them in and leads the way into the sitting room. It's a cosy room, triangular and lit from sconces on the walls and a small window in the apex of the roof, and warm despite being right under the eaves. A thick rug covers the polished oak floorboards, and two armchairs sit catty-corner to each other, facing the entrance. Behind them there is a door in each wall, leading to the two bedrooms, each of which has an en-suite bathrooom.

Ianto looks around the room and rubs the back of his neck. "You, um... Wait here a moment. I'll be back in a second." He leaves Jack standing in the middle of the room and goes into his own bedroom and, for something to do with his hands, Jack finds a box of matches and starts lighting the candles in the coloured lanterns on the bookshelves.

When Ianto returns, Jack has all the candles lit and has his tablet plugged in to the wall so that it can play music for longer. He chooses the Heeley-Hutchinson Carol Symphony before he turns back to face Ianto. "Christmas," he says, holding his arms out to indicate the room. "All we need is a fireplace."

"All I needed was you."

He drops his arms and turns away. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" Ianto approaches him and rubs his shoulder. "You didn't leave me."

"I never would." He turns back to Ianto and takes his hand, the one that isn't hidden in his pocket. "If I'd been able to, I would have fought my way back to you to be there at your side when you needed me."

Ianto looks down at Jack's hand and rubs his thumb across his bare finger, where his ring should be. The silence draws out whilst they both search for something to say, until Ianto raises his head and draws a box from his pocket. "It took me time to track them down again, and then it wasn't a quick job to do but... I got it back earlier this week." He opens the box and Jack catches a glimpse of gold and silver. "I had to keep them together, until I could give it back."

Jack accepts the box from him and gazes at the rings inside. One is black tungsten with a silver titanium band running through it and a high shine mirror polish – the one he chose for Ianto. The other is Ianto's choice for him; two bands, one Welsh gold and titanium and one silver titanium, run side by side and cross over twice. He runs his thumb over it and clears his throat with difficulty. "I thought I lost it," he whispers. "When I woke up and it was gone... It was the last bit of you I had." Losing it had broken his heart somewhere in the fog of drugs on that first day, but it had been tempered by getting Ianto back.

He returns the box to Ianto and holds his breath whilst Ianto extracts the rings carefully. "They had to... to cut it off," he explains, voice as shaky as Jack feels. "To get it off your finger. I wanted to be the one to get it repaired and give it back to you."

"I'm glad." Jack holds his hand still and spreads his fingers so that Ianto can slide the ring back into place, where it belongs. It feels right, and he catches Ianto's hand to take the other ring from him. "Ianto Jones, will you?"

"I will." He relaxes his fingers and lets Jack replace the ring, then catches Jack's hand and raises it to his chest. "Jack, I want... Will you stay with me tonight?"

Jack brushes the backs of his fingers against Ianto's cheek, traces his jaw with fingertips and strokes his lower lip with his thumb. "Haven't you remembered yet? There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

**31.12.29**  
>The Hub under Cardiff Bay was filled with echoes, and the rippling reflections from the water in the pool at the base of the tower cast an eerie pallor over the whole room. A make-up artist fluttered around him, arguing with the director and lighting director. "His complexion needs a warmer light; sorry, dear." She smiled at him and brushed more powder across his cheeks, somehow managing to glare at the directors at the same time. "Talking about you like you're not here. At least put a pink on him, bring him out of the darkness."<p>

"She's right," the director decided. "Put a rose filter on the spots. Do you have anything red, Director?"

"I don't wear red." He breathed a sigh of relief when the make-up artist moved away. "Can we start?"

"Yes, yes." The director gestured him into the middle of the room and hurried across to the cameras. "Now, can you start by talking us through the history whilst we wait for Matt?"

"Of course." He looked over to the autopsy bay, which was screened off and being used as the changing rooms, and waited to be told they were ready. When they were he looked around and remembered the space as it used to be. "When Torchwood first established a permanent Hub here," he began, "it was smaller than it is now. This space is the footprint of Cardiff's first stone-built dock, which was deep enough for ocean-going coal ships. The Marquess of Bute had a hollow space created below it, although no one knows what he intended to do with it, and in eighteen ninety it was purchased by the Torchwood Institute as a secure, concealed location for their Cardiff operations. Over the next ten years the base was expanded, first with the lower levels and the underground railway which connected it to the London and Glasgow offices, and then with the archive tunnels and the passages which allowed covert access to large areas of Cardiff.

"The final stage of development came in the nineteen eighties, when Bute Dock was closed and Tiger Bay was redeveloped into a tourism and leisure destination. The closure of the dock allowed space for upward expansion, and there was already discussion of Torchwood becoming a public entity, so plans were drawn up to develop the dock space, and the Hub was connected to the new developments around the Bay, particularly the Welsh Assembly building. Nothing came of it, though, and funding was diverted to the Canary Wharf development." He shrugged and looked up at the cavernous space above him. "The Hub was left undeveloped, and the temporary ceiling that had been installed collapsed during the Cardiff Earthquake, destroying most of the technology in the main Hub. We reorganised a few times after that, until the final layout that you see here, which is what we left behind when we moved to our current Cardiff Hub in twenty ten."

The director called a cut, and the make-up artist came to touch him up. "I like it, but less like you're presenting a documentary, if possible?" the director asked. Matt Baker finally emerged from the autopsy bay, and the director swept him towards Ianto. "I assume you know of Matt, at least?"

They shook hands and Ianto grinned. "Am I allowed to say that I watched you on Blue Peter?"

"You can say what you like, but I might not believe you," Matt teased, clapping him on the shoulder. He'd certainly mellowed, but his accent and eager enthusiasm hadn't. "Thanks for doing this with us; it'll be really good to get the true story of Torchwood."

"It needs telling," Ianto agreed. The director came to locate them in the right place and Ianto shifted uncomfortably. "How do you get used to this?"

"Practice." Matt grew more serious and looked over the list of interview questions. "You've seen and gone over the questions, I take it? Removed any you don't want to answer and all that."

"I didn't remove any, but yes, I've seen them." He glanced over them and shrugged again. "They all need answering, and I'd rather I did it."

"Alright then." Matt turned to the director and handed his interview sheets over. "Let's get started then, shall we?" The film crew had set a pair of chairs up in what had been Jack's office, and they settled down in there to talk. Ianto smoothed his hands over his trousers and smiled at Matt, who settled back in his chair and greeted him, "Director Jones, thanks for joining us."

"It's my pleasure," he assured him. "I'm just glad to be able to tell the story at last."

"And what a story it is, dating back one hundred and fifty years to the day when Queen Victoria encountered the Doctor for the very first time. Torchwood, of course, developed during the height of the original British Empire, and it's been instrumental in re-establishing an empire that's now looking to the stars, and closer to reaching them than any other country. People are calling it Britain's Golden Age, and, in fact, calling you the architect of Britain's Golden Age. Do you think that's fair?"

Ianto gave the question some thought, as if he hadn't given it plenty of thought since the first time he heard it mentioned on Question Time one night. "It's impossible to deny that Britain is in a period of expansion, development and economic well-being like we haven't seen since the height of the British Empire," he said at last, "and I think that Torchwood has played a huge part in that, no doubt. Whether that's down to me, though, I'm not so sure. If I've helped in establishing the capacity for development, and doing that in a way which holds true to my principals and have therefore helped to create an empire based not on slavery and hardship but on equality and justice, then I can be very proud of that. But I would always look to Jack as the architect; even though he's been missing for seventeen years, he spent so long working for Torchwood and guiding it, trying to build it into an organisation we could all be proud of, and all I've done is tried to carry on that work in his place."

"You must miss him terribly," Matt commented with unexpected gentleness.

He swallowed hard and nodded. "All the time. He is my leader, my husband and my best friend, and he means the world to me."

"And do you think he'll be proud of what you've achieved?"

"Yes." He looked up at the ceiling and smiled. "Yes, I think he will."

**04.02.19**  
>"I'm as certain as I can be without having someone kill me and see if I get up again," Ianto confirmed, cradling his tea cup carefully. The white drawing room at Buckingham Palace, which he'd always secretly called the buttercup drawing room, was bright and cheerful despite the leaden skies and the rain hammering at the windows. It was far too big for them (and the bodyguards), and looked like he felt: maniacally cheerful in the face of adversity, although he was fairly certain that he didn't have a matching tea service. He sipped at the tea and raised an eyebrow at their worried expressions. "The Doctor is loudly emphatic that I'm a fixed point, so the chances are good that I'm not going to drop dead right here."<p>

"I'm glad to hear it," the king told him, with a twinkle in his eyes. "It would cause a terrible furore."

"That would be the last thing we need," he laughed. "And I'd hate to make a mess of the carpet."

"Ianto, you could never die untidily." Harry set his own teacup aside and became serious. "What does this mean for Torchwood? Is anything going to change?"

He smiled and ducked his head to think. "I can't go back into the field. Just because I'll bounce back doesn't mean that a heart attack won't kill me. It's too big a risk for any team with me." He glanced at Harry, who nodded his understanding. "So I'm stuck behind a desk forever."

"Behind a desk and telling people what to do, like you do best." Harry leaned back on the sofa and grinned. "You can keep working through your plans... forever."

"And if that's not a terrifying prospect, I don't know what is," Charles chuckled. "And yet a thrilling one."

"There's a lot of work still to do," he mused, "and there probably always will be. Maybe one day, when we're part of an intergalactic empire and new institutions have moved in, Torchwood will become obsolete."

"I dare say that there will always be a place for Torchwood, as there always has been." King Charles set his teacup aside and sat up straighter. "Now, dear boy, what are we to do about Torchwood?"

Prince Harry held up a hand to stop them. "I would like to continue as we have been doing, building a lasting foundation on which to base the security and future of the country. We are in a unique position, even more so now that your... longevity will allow you to guide our progress throughout. No difficult periods when a leader dies unexpectedly."

"That really is worrying," Ianto commented.

"Terrifying," Prince Harry agreed. "Which is why I recommend that we elect you to the position of Director General of the Institute, with a Governor General to represent the people of the Commonwealth and keep an eye on you."

"And who, exactly, would you recommend to take on the role of Governor General?" the king asked.

"Me." He grinned at them and spread his hands, although he was earnest. "Torchwood has always been and will always be responsible to the Crown and the Commonwealth, not to the government. I want to be involved, to help to drive the country forwards into the twenty first century."

Ianto considered him and returned his smile. "We'd love to have you on board. Torchwood has been disconnected for too long; it's time we stood up to be counted at last."

**1.6.19**  
>Ianto found himself in a BBC studio in the centre of London, waiting to give an interview he hadn't been expecting. It had been a long and trying day, with questions coming from every direction whilst he tried to organise the ceremony, the security and the soiree, and still kept one eye on the reports coming in from a tense situation at the Australian base. He would rather have slept, but at some point he'd agree to appear on the ten o'clock news on the BBC. It could have been worse; Newsnight was definitely beyond him.<p>

Fiona Bruce finished off a story about a fire that had closed the M62 for a few hours, which he was almost certain was nothing to do with Torchwood, and moved onto his piece. He swallowed hard, suddenly aware of the cameras pointed at him, just waiting to show him to the country again. "Today was the first day of the new command structure at Torchwood," she was saying, "after an investiture at the London Hub to create the roles of Director General and Governor General. I am joined tonight by the newly created the Right Honourable Baron Jones, formerly Director of Torchwood and now the Director General. Baron Jones, congratulations on your appointment."

"Thank you very much," he smiled at her rather than allow his bewilderment at his peerage to show. King Charles had surprised him with that one.

She leaned towards him and asked, "What does the new command structure mean for Torchwood, particularly for its everyday operations? Torchwood is still a little understood organisation, naturally, and the command structure has never been clear."

"Well, it will mean a lot more accountability," he explained to begin with. "For nine years I've been the director of the whole institute, with overall control over every branch, and as we've expanded that has become a lot more work. The time has come, came a few years ago actually, when I couldn't keep up with that quantity of work, and so direction delegated by region, leaving me to focus on the UK. Of course, this still wasn't ideal because we didn't have anyone at the top, so this is a real reorganisation with a more formal command structure organised by region, but, of course, with the fluidity of information and resource exchange between the regions that has been our biggest strength, after our people, over the last decade."

"Are you prepared to relinquish that immediate control that you've exercised over Torchwood, Baron Jones? You're a very familiar figure, here in the UK especially but right across the Commonwealth, and someone that people look to in a crisis. Is that going to continue, even if you're at a greater distance from the front line?"

"Of course it will." He paused to think about that instant declaration. "I've been working for Torchwood for a long time, longer than anyone else, and I've worked my way up from being an errand runner at Canary Wharf up to the directorship, and I did my time as a field agent when Torchwood was just five of us in Cardiff. Because of that, because I have that history and I've seen what can happen when we're too close to the wire, I always feel a huge responsibility when we have a crisis to deal with, and I will be there to help out. As long as the regional directors don't think I'm stepping on their toes, of course."

"Speaking of stepping on toes, your relationship with UNIT appears to be strained at the moment." She glanced down at her tablet, reading something he knew she didn't need to. "The Brigadier has been somewhat uncomplimentary of you recently."

"Torchwood is an organisation for empires, and UNIT is an organisation for a unified Earth. Until we have true unity, there are of course going to be crossed jurisdictions. Torchwood has been around longer, and we look after our own," he said firmly. "UNIT do a fantastic job, but Torchwood's strength is about looking after the local scale, about identifying those communities which are most at risk and setting up to protect them in the long term. Some battlefields come and go, and those are the ones where UNIT is strong, but when an ongoing Hub is needed, Torchwood are better."

Someone gave them a sign to wind it up and Fiona hurried on with her final question. "And how do you feel about the fact that some nations are requesting to become part of the Commonwealth or to return to the Commonwealth to gain Torchwood's protection?"

He hesitated over the question, and went for something tactful. "The issue of Commonwealth membership is one for the governments of the countries involved and the Commonwealth committee. When it comes to protection, if a government asked for Torchwood to help out with a specific incident then I wouldn't hesitate in sending that help. Our first priority is always to protect people, wherever they may be."

"Thank you, Baron Jones." She turned back to the main camera and he was able to escape from the hot seat whilst she finished off, "That was The Right Honourable Baron Jones, the Director General of Torchwood, discussing his appointment this afternoon. And now the weather with Simon."


	7. Epilogue

**11.2.62**  
>Unlike at their first wedding, the restaurant is small and still nearly empty this time. Jack is amused to discover that they created a trend, and that restaurant marriages had been the fashion for over a decade and are now a normal option. Ianto's PA had found them a cancellation at a restaurant in the city, and Ianto had insisted that they take it, complete with the decorations, rather than marry in Torchwood settings again. Now they're there, seated at the head table, flanked by a pair of towering tree lilies with fragrant yellow and pink blooms, with their closest friends and their surviving family, he thinks that Ianto was absolutely right.<p>

The waiters clear away the last plates from the main course and the hum of conversation dies down, everyone turning to the top table to watch Jack and Ianto. Ianto gets to his feet first and rests his hand on Jack's shoulder to keep him in his seat for now. "It's been over fifty years since Jack asked me to marry him and set us on the road we're on now. I don't talk about it much, prefer not to admit it if I'm honest, but I turned him down the first time. Rather than marry the most wonderful man I ever met, I left him and Cardiff and moved to London to work for Downing Street. A year after he proposed, we stood together in front of our family and friends and swore to take care of each other. Torchwood was always going to be our downfall, but... I swore I'd look after him." He looks down at Jack again and smiles softly. "Absence made this heart grow fonder, and I couldn't risk leaving him behind. Nothing you could have told me over the last fifty years could have made me better than telling me that I'd be standing here today. That I'd get him back."

Jack stands at last and cups Ianto's cheek, kisses him softly and takes his hand. They won't exchange rings again – neither of them wants to remove them, even for that – so he strokes his thumb over Ianto's ring and smiles at him. "Nothing would have kept me from your side; I would have walked the universe and ripped time apart to get back to you. I didn't get the chance, and I regret that more than anything."

"All that matters is that I got you back," Ianto tells him. He turns his hand so that his fingers curl around Jack's and takes a deep breath. They're still married, so there's no legal vows to go through, no paperwork hurdles to cross. There's just them, and what they want to say. "I, Ianto Gethin Jones, stand here today to swear my love and my loyalty to you, Jack Harkness. To you I give my heart and soul, my mind and body, my patience..." he pauses for Jack to chuckle, "and my love. For as long as we have."

"Ianto Jones." He swallows hard and grips Ianto's hand. "I, Jack Harkness, swear to be loyal to you, to love, protect, honour and stand by you. I will fight through the night to be at your side, and celebrate every day I spend with you, as long as we have together, I will treasure."

It's corny, but Ianto's always said that he likes Jack's corny, and the kiss he presses to Jack's lips does nothing to disavow him of that notion. Jack wraps his arms around Ianto and holds him tight, and their witnesses cheer in the background. They don't matter, though. All that matters is Ianto, warm and solid, holding him tightly, cupping the back of Jack's neck to put him exactly where he wants him, deliciously, wonderfully there. They break apart and acknowledge their audience at last, and a faint flush colours Ianto's cheeks and he blinks away tears, rubbing his nose against Jack's cheek. "I love you," he whispers. "Thank you for coming back."

Jack holds him tighter and closes his eyes. "You waited. All those years you waited. How could I not come back for that?" They're surrounded by applause that covers their conversation, and he turns to acknowledge it, raising his voice to address them. "I came to this planet by accident; didn't even mean to be here, let alone stay, and I spent so any years here holding people at arm's length, not letting anyone get close because I didn't want to feel the pain when they died or I left. Eventually I got the chance to leave... and I came back. I came back, because I'd found someone who I knew would be worth losing, someone who made the darkness lighter and the days sweeter. I found Ianto." Ianto looks at him, eyes soft with affection. "I've come so far, seen so much, loved so many, and I saw Cardiff in the nineteen eighties which, to be frank, would put anyone off. But the only place for me to be is right next to this man." He reaches over and picks up his champagne flute, passing Ianto's to him as well. "So please join me in a toast to Ianto Jones."

Ianto interrupts him, shaking his head. "Ianto Jones and Jack Harkness, the way it's always supposed to be. To us."


End file.
